Qass__ 

Book      


COPYRIGHT  DEPOSIT 


1  •would  have  all  "who  love  me  rememier.  that 
I  am  absent  from  the  body,  present  with  the  ; 


LIFE  AND  LETTERS 


OF 


MRS.  JEANETTE  H.  PLATT 


COMPILED   BY 

HER   HUSBAND. 


>OFWA? 


PHILADELPHIA: 

E.    CLAXTON    &    CO., 

930  MARKET  STREET. 
1882. 


Entered  according  to  the  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1882,  by 

CYRUS  PLATT, 
in  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington.     All  rights  reserved. 


COLLINS,  PRINTER. 


PREFACE. 


"  That  she  hath  done  shall  be  spoken  of  for  a  memorial  of  her." 

THERE  are  those  who,  though  dwelling  in  the  shadow,  look  ever 
into  the  sunshine.  Earthly  vicissitudes  do  not  disturb  their  joy. 
To  them  decay  and  death  suggest  only  the  burgeoning  of  a  new 
spring,  and  the  promise  of  an  ever-recurring  life. 

Of  such  was  she  whose  life  is  commemorated  in  these  pages, 
illustrating  her  own  words,  "We  may  always  see  through  tears  a 
bow  of  promise  in  every  cloud  that  darkens  our  way."  To  this 
happy  temperament,  united  with  rare  personal  attractions,  she 
added  an  unfaltering  trust  in  her  heavenly  Father.  Thus  was 
formed  the  substratum  of  a  character  and  life  worthy  of  all  imita- 
tion. More  worthy,  more  beautiful,  perhaps,  because  found  in 
that  sphere  of  comparative  seclusion  which  is  bounded  by  the 
domestic  and  social  relations  of  life.  Though  her  distinguished 
qualities  brought  her  into  intercourse  with  eminent  persons,  the 
fact  that  her  career  was  not  public  will  render  the  secrets  of  her 
success  more  welcome  to  the  large  majority  of  women  whose  lives 
lie  in  the  retirement  of  private  life. 

After  arriving  at  a  responsible  age,  in  the  varied  relations  of 
daughter,  wife,  mother,  and  friend,  we  find  her  always  the  burden- 
bearer.  In  these  pages  those  similarly  situated  will  be  thankful 
to  learn  the  way  and  spirit  in  which  she  carried  these  burdens,  and 
"  how  she  walked  beside  the  sad  and  weary  with  words  of  cheer 
and  of  comfort." 

These  memorials  develop  the  fact  that,  while  lacking  the  appli- 
ances of  wealth,  a  home  may  be  the  radiant  centre  of  intelligence, 

(iii) 


IV  PREFACE. 

refinement,  and  happiness.  Annoyances  and  trials  become  "as 
steps  unto  Heaven"  in  a  household  administered  by  one  who,  like 
our  friend,  remembers  God  as  a""  very  present  help;"  or  the  rule 
of  whose  life  is,  "Seek  ye  first  the  kingdom  of  God  and  His 
righteousness."  Obedience  to  this  command  was  her  only  method. 
This  released  her  from  that  bondage  to  domestic  and  social  routine 
by  which  so  many,  not  apprehending  this  "secret  of  the  Lord," 
are  oppressed;  and  these  pages  will  attest  to  the  "all  things 
added"  both  to  herself  and  family.  Referring  to  what  this  course 
enabled  her  to  accomplish,  that  gifted  daughter  of  the  Church, 
Mrs.  E.  B.  Benjamin,  writes,  "I  am  amazed,  as  I  have  learned 
more  and  more  of  her  extensive  correspondence  and  of  her  wide- 
spreading  sympathy,  amid  unceasing  family  cares,  at  the  power 
held  by  one  woman,  who,  in  simple,  childlike  faith,  followed  the 
Master  whithersoever  He  led.  The  very  number  of  her  letters  tells 
a  story  of  faithfulness. ' ' 

Among  the  letters  a  large  number  will  be  found  addressed  to 
her  nephew,  manifesting  the  great  love  she  bore  the  sister  who 
was  the  mother  of  the  young  man. 

These  letters  are  so  full  of  interests  vital  to  the  young,  so  over- 
flowing with  love  from  the  mother-heart,  so  full  of  glimpses  of  her 
beautiful  home-life,  that  a  large  space  is  given  them. 

One  marked  feature  of  her  usefulness  appears  in  her  constant 
circulation  of  such  books  as  are  elevating,  and  particularly  such  as 
are  aids  to  religious  life.  Conscientious,  some  may  think  severe, 
in  her  discriminations,  neither  the  popularity  of  a  book  nor  an 
autHor  prevented  her  protest,  if  she  apprehended  immoral  or  un- 
spiritual  tendencies.  In  this  connection  the  same  may  be  said  of 
her  relation  to  certain  popular  amusements  and  practices.  Those 
who  are  wavering  as  to  these  will  be  greatly  strengthened  by  her 
well-defined  opinions.  In  neither  word  nor  conduct  was  she  du- 
bious or  hesitating  as  to  any  practice  she  believed  to  be  detrimental 
to  a  pure  and  earnest  Christianity. 

At  the  present  time,  when  many  pious  and  intelligent  Friends 


PREFACE.  V 

are  reopening  the  question  of  rejecting  the  ordinances  of  Baptism 
and  the  Lord's  Supper,  the  reader  will  be  interested  to  find  Mrs. 
Platt  at  an  early  age  giving  deep  and  earnest  thought  to  this  sub- 
ject. These  investigations  resulted  in  her  entrance  into  that  re- 
ligious communion  at  whose  portals  stand  these  ordinances  like  the 
pillars  of  Jachin  and  Boaz  of  old,  bringing  with  her  the  ardent, 
spiritual  life,  and  insight  of  the  revered  people  she  left. 

These  papers  are  the  memorials  of  a  representative  of  the  true 
coming  woman.  Spiritual  and  intellectual  liberty,  activity  and 
growth,  are  now  recognized  and  appropriated  by  women  as  never 
before.  These,  with  a  correct  and  strong  intuition,  she  claimed 
as  her  birthright.  A  faithful  daughter  of  the  King,  these  pages 
will  develop  how  that  relation  made  royal  the  lowliest  duties  of  life 
at  the  bidding  of  her  loyal  heart,  and  with  the  touch  of  her  loyal 
hands. 

H.  C.  McCABE. 

Giving  to  this  work  the  spare  minutes  and  hours  of  the  past  four 
years  and  a  half,  accumulating  the  material  for  it,  but  failing  the 
promised  assistance  to  arrange  it  for  publication,  it  seemed  inevit- 
able that  it  should  remain  incomplete  for  a  long  time,  if  not  for- 
ever. But  at  the  hour  of  greatest  despondency  help  providentially 
came.  Two  dear  and  loving  friends  of  the  departed  one,  agreed 
to  assume  the  difficult  task  of  selecting  from  the  mass  of  papers  at 
hand,  and  of  arranging-  them  for  publication ;  and  it  is  but  just 
that  the  valuable  and  timely  assistance,  so  freely  and  cheerfully 
given,  should  here  be  acknowledged. 

Some  may  be  disposed  to  criticize  this  work,  and  to  say  that 
most  of  the  letters  herein  published  were  strictly  private,  and  never 
intended  for  the  public,  and  to  so  expose  the  writer's  secret  thoughts 
and  expressions  of  affection  is  indelicate,  and  not  what  she  would 
have  approved, — that  she  would  have  shrunk  from  such  exposure 
of  her  inner  life. 


VI  PREFACE. 

To  this  we  reply :  so  fully  was  Mrs.  Platt  imbued  with  the  spirit 
of  charity,  in  the  most  comprehensive  Gospel  sense  of  that  word, 
that,  if  convinced  that  anything  she  had  ever  written  or  said  would 
give  pleasure  and  do  good  to  others,  she  would  not  only  willingly, 
but  gladly,  consent  to  have  it  so  used. 

With  discreetness  in  conversation,  she  combined  the  utmost  fear- 
lessness and  frankness  in  giving  expression  to  her  thoughts  and 
feelings.  Her  kindly,  loving  words  were  always  the  promptings 
of  her  warm,  generous  heart. 

It  may  not  be  inappropriate  to  say  that  the  compiler's  first  pur- 
pose was  to  prepare  a  small  memorial  volume  for  the  use,  first,  of 
her  children  and  grandchildren,  and  so  preserve  for  them  her  pre- 
cious letters;  and,  second,  to  give  a  copy  to  each  of  her  friends 
who  would  appreciate  such  a  book.  But,  as  the  work  progressed, 
the  material  increased  to  such  an  extent  as  to  make  it  difficult  to 
decide  what  to  reject,  all  seeming  so  excellent.  Therefore,  following 
the  advice  of  those  whose  judgment  and  correct  taste  could  not  be 
questioned,  and  whose  opinions  were  that  the  papers  would,  if  pub- 
lished, make  a  contribution  to  Christian  literature  too  valuable  to 
be  lost,  and  should,  by  all  means,  be  given  to  the  public,  the 
decision  was  made  to  publish  the  papers  as  now  presented. 

Mrs.  Platt's  life  not  being  an  eventful  one,  the  narrative  will  be 
of  interest  chiefly  to  her  relatives;  but  it  serves  the  purpose  of 
connecting  links  between  the  different  periods  of  her  life,  and 
helps  to  show  the  stages  of  development  of  her  bright  and  beautiful 
Christian  character. 

C.  P. 

DELAWARE,  OHIO,  September,  1882. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 
I. 

Introductory  — Letters  from  Rev.  E.  H.  Canfield,  D.D.,  and  Rev.  S.  H. 
Tyng,  Sen.,  D.D 17 


II. 

Parentage — Birth — Biography  of  early  life — Visit  to  Lancaster  and  Cincin- 
nati, O.,  1831-32 — Baptism — Illness  of  her  brother  James 


III. 

Letters  to  Mary  H. — Christmas,  1839 — Devotion  to  her  brother  James — His 
death,  1840— Letters  from  Mrs.  Bedell  and  Rev.  Dr.  Tyng    ...       29 


IV. 

1840-1846 — Point  Pleasant — Letters  to  her  sister  Martha — My  birthday, 
1843 — Clear  views  of  the  doctrine  of  justification  by  faith  —  Visit  to 
Harrisburgh,  Lewisburg,  and  Blue  Hill — A  literary  hermit — Letter  to 
E.  G.  H.— Brookfield— Rev.  D.  A.  Tyng— Death  of  her  parents— Let- 
ters to  H.  W.  B.  and  Mrs.  R.  Harrison,  "mother" — Marriage  of  her 
sister  Martha  a  great  loss — Letters  to  her  sister  M.  and  Rev.  Dr.  Damon  37 


V. 

Comes  to  Ohio — First  impressions — Happiness  of  her  sister,  Mrs.  Canfield, 
in  her  New  Home.     Oct.  1846 — March,  1847 


VI. 

New  acquaintances  —  Engagement  —  Letters  to  her  husband  before  mar- 
riage— Strength  of  religious  character — Return  to  Brookfield  -via  Lake 
Erie  and  New  York — Marriage  and  return  to  Ohio.  1847  •  •  •  7° 

(vii) 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

VII.  PAGE 

Happiness  of  her  married  life — Birth  of  first  child — Visit  to  Columbus — 
Rev.  D.  A.  Tyng  —  Rev.  Dr.  Canfield  returns  East  with  his  family — 
Birth  of  second  child — Pleasant  visit  from  W.  A.  P.  and  wife — Letters 
to  her  sister  Martha.  March,  1848,  to  December,  1850  ...  80 

VIII. 

Trip  to  New  York — Spends  the  summer  in  New  York,  Philadelphia,  and 
New  Jersey — Lines  fallen  in  pleasant  places — Heaven  is  our  home — Can- 
not love  each  other  too  much,  but  must  love  God  supremely.  May  to 
September,  1851 89 

IX. 

Letter  from  Mrs.  Canfield  describing  a  visit  from  Rev.  S.  C.  Damon — A 
valued  old  friend — The  love  of  Christian  friends — A  realization  of  the 
heavenly  meeting — Mrs.  Canfield  to  Rev.  S.  C.  Damon — A  beautiful 
prayer  —  Sunnyside  —  Rev.  E.  H.  C.  to  Mrs.  Platt — Mrs.  Platt  to  her 
sister — A  blessing.  1851101854 99 

X. 

Goes  to  New  York — Illness  and  death  of  her  sister  Martha — Beautiful  ex- 
amples of  sisterly  affection — A  privilege  to  see  a  Christian  die.  August, 
1855 105 

XI. 

Visit  to  Gambier — Diocesan  Convention — Pleasant  greetings — Trip  to  Mis- 
souri with  her  cousin  Mrs.  Maccracken — W.  A.  P. — Gratitude  for  atten- 
tion— A  night  of  diversion — Hurrah  for  Ohio  girls  and  Iowa  develop- 
ment— St.  Louis — First  impressions  of  Missouri — Rose  Hill — Beau  ideal 
of  a  country  house — Her  aunt's  delightful  home — Her  uncle's  missionary 
work.  May,  1856,  to  Oct.  1858 ill 

XII. 

Letters  from  Dr.  Tyng  at  Gambier  and  New  York — First  letter  to  Rev. 
S.  C.  Damon  after  marriage  —  Pleasant  reminiscences  —  A  peep  at  my 
children — Twenty-two  years  have  passed,  but  friendship  remains  as  fresh 
and  strong  as  ever.  June,  1 860,  to  September,  1861  .  .  .  .119 

XIII. 

Trip  to  Philadelphia  —  General  E — An  agreeable  travelling  com- 
panion— Brookfield — Burlington — Kindly  greeting — Not  a  day  older — 
Contentment.  September  to  November,  1863  .  .  .  .  .128 


CONTENTS.  IX 

XIV.  PAGE 

A  hospitable  house — Death  of  her  husband's  mother — Letters  to  her  daugh- 
ter E. — Her  husband — Rev.  Dr.  Damon — Not  a  Yankee  woman  born  to 
command — Numerous  household  duties,  sixteen  knees  and  one  hundred 
toes — To  her  son  H.,  on  the  importance  of  a  godly  life — To  S.  C.  D. 
— Model  friendship,  warm,  pure,  and  true — Visit  from  Samuel  Damon — 
Letter  to  Brother  John — Floating  island — Pictures  of  her  children — Not 
"  book  children" — A  happy  family — Views  of  dancing — To  Rev.  S.  C.  D. 
— Her  daughter  E.  in  New  York — A  happy  Christmas — Attention  to  Mr. 

P y — He  becomes  interested  in  the  P.  E.  Church — Gift  of  a  Prayer 

Book — Birthday  letter  to  her  daughter  E. — Delightful  visit  from  Rev. 
Dr.  Damon,  wife,  and  son,  and  Rev.  Dr.  Canfield — To  L.  E.  S. — Mat- 
rimony— Mistakes  and  missteps — Happiness  not  the  great  object  of  life — 
A  fearful  venture  —  No  true  union  of  hearts  and  hands  without  God's 
blessing.  September,  1864,  to  January,  1872 133 

XV. 

Goes  East  with  Mrs.  McC. — A  loving  arrangement — Congenial  spirits — St. 
Barnabas  House,  N.  Y. — Atlantic  City — The  wide,  wide  ocean  —  De- 
lightful meeting  of  friends  —  W.  J.  Allison  —  The  Dewdrop  —  Miss 
Harland,  her  former  Bible-class  teacher — Hulmeville — Boat  ride  on  the 
Neshaminy  —  Up  the  Hudson  —  Mott  Farm,  Highlands  —  A  picture — 
Giving  pleasure.  June  to  September,  1872  ......  162 

XVI. 

Letters  to  Mrs.  Maccracken— S.  C.  D. — L.  E.  S. — H.  P. — Death  of  her 
brbther  John — Our  loved  ones  who  have  gone  before  are  still  near  to  us 
— Visit  to  Toledo — George  Eliot's  books — Opinion  of  other  authors — A 
happy  home — Views  of  marriage — A  higher  school — Old  Florence  dial, 
"  I  count  the  hours  that  shine."  September,  1872,  to  December,  1874  .  169 

XVII. 

Trip  to  Philadelphia — First  grandchild — A  tiny  bud — Bishop  Jaggar,  his 
consecration — Return  home  with  her  daughter  and  child.  March  to 
June,  1875 185 

XVIII. 

Letters  to  Dr.  Damon — Jean  P.  S. — A  six  months'-birthday,  a  sixty  years' 
birthday,  the  happiest,  gladdest,  brightest  of  her  life — A  word  picture — 
Taine's  English  literature — To  F.  W.  Damon,  Mrs.  W.  B.  M. — Last  letter 
to  her  husband — Thirtieth  anniversary — Facing  life's  sunset — To  Rev. 
G.  W.  D.  November,  1875,  to  July,  1877 19° 


X  CONTENTS. 

XIX.  PAGE 

Letters  to  a  nephew — J.  H.  C. — Heait-ta-lks — Deep  interest  in  the  spiritual 
development  of  the  son  of  her  dearly-loved  sister.  1865  to  1874  .  .  209 

XX. 

Correspondence  with  Mrs.  E.  Bedell  Benjamin — Valued  letters — Bright 
points  of  light — Bible  studies — Raven's  food — Pictures — A  white  raven 
— Home  pictures.  1871101875.  .  .  ...  .  .  252 

XXI. 

Letters  to  Miss  Snell — Treasures  of  friendship— A  Mayflower — Afraid  of 
N.  E.  college  air — New  England  greatness — Nest  robbed — The  mother's 
lot.  1873  to  1874 271 

XXII. 

Miscellaneous — Christmas  eve,  Christmas  day,  a  joyous  season  all  over  the 
house — A  nice  long  breakfast — F.  W.  D.'s  sketch  of  a  Christmas  scene 
in  Ohio — Letter  to  Bishop  Bedell — To  President  Merrick — Autumn  of 
life — John  S.  Hart — Questions  for  the  pulpit — Criticism  of  "  Middle- 
march" — "  Sex  in  Education" — Letters  to  a  godchild,  with  a  tribute  to 

her  brother * 277 

• 
XXIII. 

Sympathy  for  the  afflicted — Letters  from  Mrs.  Preston,  Mrs.  C.  Todd,  Mrs. 
Merrick — Bishop  Mcllvaine — To  Mrs.  McC.,  Mrs.  L.  C. — From  Bishop 
Jaggar,  Miss  Snell  ..........  299 

XXIV. 

Correspondence  with  Mrs.  Anne  E.  Thomson — Beloved,  sympathetic  friends 
— Death  of  Bishop  Thomson  of  the  M.  E.  Church — Oneness  in  all  sor- 
row— Stricken  hearts  comforted — My  little  comfort;  poem  by  Mrs.  T. — 
Mrs.  Plait's  last  letter  of  sympathy.  1870-77 307 

XXV. 

Obituary — Closing  days — Instructions  for  burial — 1877 — Private  paper  to 

her  husband.     1848 315 

• 

XXVI. 

Sympathy —Consolation — Letters  from  James  C.,  Dr.  Merrick,  Mrs.  La 
Croix,  Dr.  Damon,  Rev.  C.  T.  W.,  Bishop  Jaggar  ....  320 


CONTENTS.  XI 

XXVII.  PAGE 

Tributes — From  S.  C.  D. — A  sister's  tribute,  poem — From  Mrs.  R.,  Mrs.  E. 
V.  F.,  E.  H.  C.— Mrs.  A.  T.,  a  beautiful  picture— J.  H.  C.,  F.  \V.  D., 
music  and  poetry — Her  life  a  lesson  and  inspiration — From  a  student — 
Deep  sorrow — A  model  wife — Ladies'  Missionary  Society,  Mrs.  J.  H. 
Platt  scholarship— H.  C.  M.— E.  G.  H.— S.  R.  B.— Reminiscences, 
strong  Christian  principle,  consideration  for  the  aged — Original  poem  .  328 

4 

APPENDIX. 
The  old  parish  church — The  funeral  of  Dr.  Dorr      .....     344 


INTRODUCTORY.  17 


I. 


"  The  memory  of  the  just  is  blessed." 

Introductory — Letters  from  Rev.  E.  H.  Canfield,  D.D.,  and 
Rev.  S.  H.  Tyng,  Sen.,  D.D. 

THE  idea  of  perpetuating,  in  this  form,  the  life  of  this  noble 
woman,  was  suggested  by  the  following  circumstance  : — 

The  day  after  she  had  "entered  into  rest,"  two  personal  friends 
called  to  tender  their  kindly  sympathies.  They  said,  "This  griev- 
ous loss  is  not  yours  alone,  Mr.  Platt ;  it  is  our  loss ;  it  is  a  loss- 
to  the  whole  community." 

Thence  came  the  thought,  "  If  this  be  so,  do  not  such  rare  and 
beautiful  traits  of  character  belong  in  a  certain  sense  to  the  church 
and  all  who  will  receive  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  as  set  forth  in< 
the  life  of  this  true  *  member  of  Christ  and  child  of  God  ?'  Why 
not  let  her  '  light  so  shine  before  men  that  they,  seeing  her  good 
works,  may  glorify  our  Father  which  is  in  heaven,'  to  whom  she 
ever  ascribed  all  the  glory  for  all  that  she  possessed  of  the  graces 
of  the  Spirit.  And  how  can  that  better  be  done  than  by  a  memo- 
rial volume?" 

The  more  the  idea  was  dwelt  upon,  the  more  appropriate  it 
seemed  to  be  to  render  a  memorial  of  such  a  life,  and  when  it  came 
to  be  spoken  of,  first  in  the  family,  and  then  to  the  dear  friends  of 
the  departed  one,  all  gave  such  cordial  approval  to  the  plan  as  to 
lead  to  the  resolve  to  attempt  its  execution.  Then  came  the  ques- 
tions, "How  shall  it  be  done?  How  can  such  a  character  and 
life  as  was  Mrs.  Platt's  be  even  faintly  portrayed,  and  who  is  com- 
petent and  willing  to  undertake  the  difficult  task?" 


l8  INTRODUCTORY. 

Proposals  were  made  to  her  own  sisters  and  to  other  relatives  and 
friends  of  her  early  days,  but  all  seemed  to  shrink  from  it  as  a 
subject  they  did  not  feel  equal  to,  realizing  how  impossible  it  would 
be  to  attain  a  result  that  should  not,  after  all,  prove  only  shadowy 
and  inadequate.  This  conviction  is  well  expressed  in  a  letter  from 
one  who  knew  her  well, — Rev.  Dr.  Canfield.  He  writes  : — 

"Mrs.  Mitchell  informs  me  that  you  contemplate  preparing  a 
brief  biography  of  your  sainted  wife.  If  her  true  character,  spirit, 
and  life  could  be  set  forth  even  approximately,  on  paper,  no  biog- 
raphy ever  written  would  excel  it  in  bright  and  wholesome  lessons. 
This,  I  am  persuaded,  no  pen  can  do. 

"  For  six  or  seven  years  before  you  first  saw  her  at  my  house,  I 
had  frequently  met  her  in  society  and  in  her  home  at  Burlington 
and  Brookfield.  The  first  time  we  met  (in  1838  or  1839)  I  felt  that 
she  was  endowed  with  rare  charms  and  attractions.  My  admiration 
grew  with  our  further  acquaintance,  and  ripened  into  the  most  un- 
reserved confidence  and  affectionate  regard.  During  her  residence 
with  us  in  Delaware,  of  over  a  year  before  your  marriage,  I  was 
sick  a  large  part  of  the  time,  while  her  sister  was  also  laid  aside 
from  active  duty.  She  was  nurse- to  both  of  us  and  jto  the  baby, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  housekeeper,  and  the  centre  of  attraction  in 
the  parish.  I  shall  never  forget  her  nights  of  uncomplaining, 
cheerful  watchfulness,  and  her  days  of  earnest,  cheerful  sympathy 
and  care.  She  never  tired,  never  evinced  the  faintest  symptom  of 
selfishness.  I  have  never  met,  nor  heard  of,  her  equal  in  this 
respect.  And  yet,  with  all  this,  she  contrived  to  keep  up  an  interest 
in  much  of  the  literature  of  the  day,  and  to  flood  every  social  circle 
in  her  way  with  brightness.  It  was  not  a  blaze  of  mirth  that  marked 
her  presence,  but  a  radiance  of  just  that  degree  and  quality  of  light 
which  clothes  every  object  in  its  best  color,  and  gives  it  its  most 
attractive  form.  This  pervaded  her  whole  life's  history.  You 
know  what  I  mean,  but  none  except  personal  friends  can  be  made 
to  understand  it.  After  you  have  done  all  in  your  power,  you 
must  fail  of  presenting  anything  like  a  just  portrait  of  the  original." 

Failing  to  find  any  one  willing  to  undertake  the  work,  it  seemed 
to  devolve  upon  the  writer  to  do  as  best  he  could  ;  and  he  deemed 
it  the  better  plan  to  make  it  a  work  of  compilation  from  her  num- 
erous letters,  written  to  her  own  loved  ones,  and  to  dear,  valued 


INTRODUCTORY.  19 

friends,  and  so  let  her  own  thoughts  thus  freely  expressed  delineate 
her  beautiful  character. 

The  large  number  of  her  letters,  returned  and  in  possession, 
brought  with  them  the  realization  of  the  difficulties  to  be  overcome. 
At  the  same  time,  there  also  came  an  overwhelming  sense  of  the 
vast  amount  of  work  accomplished  by  Mrs.  Platt  during  her  mar- 
ried life  in  the  way  of  correspondence.  How  she  found  opportunity 
for  so  much  letter-writing  as  she  accomplished,  and  yet  neglected 
no  daily  household  duties, — which,  with  the  care  of  seven  children, 
would  seem  to  have  been  sufficiently  numerous  to  occupy  all  her 
time, — one  can  hardly  understand.  Her  family  duties  were  never 
slighted,  for  she  lived  eminently  in  the  present,  and  acted  upon  the 
injunction,  "Whatsoever  thy  hand  findeth  to  do,  do  it  with  thy 
might." 

It  may  not  be  inappropriate,  in  connection  with  this  point,  to 
mention  that  Mrs.  Platt  was  impressed  with  the  belief  that  her  days 
upon  earth  were  to  be  few ;  and  after  marriage  she  often  spoke  of 
it, — not,  in  any  sense,  with  a  gloomy  foreboding,  but  as  an  event 
to  be  provided  for  in  all  her  plans.  This  seemed  strange  in  one  so 
endowed  with  physical  and  mental  energy,  and  whose  enjoyment 
of  life  was  so  vivid  and  intense. 

The  following  note  to  her  sister,  Mrs.  Mitchell,  with  its  accom- 
panying tribute  to  Mrs.  Platt's  character,  is  from  the  pen  of  the 
venerable  Dr.  Tyng,  whose  acquaintance  began  in  her  childhood 
days,  and  who  was  ever  afterward  warmly  attached  to  her  and 
deeply  interested  in  the  development  of  her  character. 

IRVING  COTTAGE  HOME,  Oct.  4,  1877. 
MY  DEAR  FRIEND  : 

I  have  thought  much  of  the  best  way  to  do  something  more  in 
remembrance  of  our  dear  Jeanette — some  tribute  which  I  should 
have  great  pleasure  in  preparing  as  I  may  have  opportunity.  .  .  . 
.  A  small  volume  might  be  prepared  which  would  make  a  handy 
gift,  and,  perhaps,  a  useful  book  for  other  rising  girls:  such  ex- 
amples are  very  vital  and  effective,  because  within  the  reach  of  and 
attainable  by  all. 

With  much  regard, 

Your  faithful  friend, 

STEPHEN  H.  TYNG. 


20  -INTRODUCTORY — DR.    TYNG. 

Subsequently,  in  Nov.  1878,  Dr.  Tyngsent  the  following: — 
"In  my  residence  and  ministry  in  Philadelphia  from  1829,  Mrs. 
Platt  was  under  my  observation  and  pastoral  notice  and  care  for 
some  years.  She  was  thirteen  years  of  age  at  the  time  of  my  first 
personal  acquaintance  with  her.  She  had  a  sister  very  near  her 
own  age,  subsequently  married  to  Rev.  Dr.  Canfield.  The  two 
sisters  were  entirely  united  in  mutual  affection,  and  very  similar  in 
external  character  and  education.  They  appeared  together  in  such 
perfect  equality  and  unity  of  taste  and  experience,  that  they  seemed 
rather  as  twins  than  as  differing  in  age.  Their  place  of  birth  and 
early  education  was  the  quiet  and  beautiful  town  of  Burlington,  in 
New  Jersey,  on  the  Delaware  River.  Here  Jeanette,  of  whom  I 
now  particularly  speak,  grew  up  in  a  happy  childhood,  active  and 
sprightly  in  temperament  and  habit,  accustomed  to  exercise  in  the 
open  air,  and  though  small  in  figure,  yet  full  of  health  and  youthful 
vigor.  Her  form  was  remarkable  for  symmetry  and  grace;  her 
features  were  delicate  and  attractive,  and  she  became  in  her  lively 
but  soft  and  pleasing  manners,  welcomed  in  society,  and  was  en- 
compassed always  with  friends.  Thus  she  came  under  my  notice, 
at  the  period  I  have  stated,  the  joy  and  idol  of  a  large  circle  who 
delighted  in  her  society,  and  were  made  happy  by  her  presence. 

"Her  parents  were  of  the  Society  of  Friends;  and  the  calm  and 
gentle  manners  of  the  females  of  that  society  were  united  in  her 
with  strong  intelligence  and  agreeable  powers  of  conversation. 
She  was  very  precocious  in  mind  and  character,  and,  at  the  period 
of  my  first  acquaintance  with  her,  appeared  in  information  and  de- 
portment quite  in  advance  of  her  actual  age.  Both  of  these  sisters 
became,  quite  early,  true  disciples  of  Jesus  and  '  daughters  of  the 
Lord  Almighty.'  Their  brother,  James  Hulme,  was  a  young  man- 
of  eminent  piety  and  of  unusual  intelligence,  though  having  no  par- 
ticular advantages  of  early  literary  acquirements.  This  dear  young 
man  consecrated  himself  to  the  ministry  of  the  Episcopal  Church, 
and  rapidly  grew  in  knowledge  and  character  adapted  to  the  sacred 
ministry  which  he  desired,  but  for  the  public  exercise  of  which  his 
life  was  not  prolonged.  Under  his  personal  influence,  to  a  great 
extent,  the  religious  character  of  these  sisters  was  formed  and  their 
religious  intelligence  advanced.  They  constituted  a  threefold  cord 
which  is  not  quickly  broken.  Their  separation  from  the  religious 
body  to  which  their  parents  belonged,  and  in  connection  with 


DR.    TYNG.  21 

which  their  early  years  had  been  spent,  was,  doubtless,  trying  to 
their  affection.  But  there  was  nothing  in  the  parental  care  under 
which  they  had  been  nurtured  to  enhance  the  difficulty;  and  brother 
and  sister  came  forward  together  to  connect  themselves  with  the 
Protestant  Episcopal  Church.  They  were  earnestly  attached  to 
each  other,  and  in  their  mutual  love  and  fellowship  they  found 
great  comfort  and  support." 


22  THE    HULME    FAMILY. 


II. 


"  With  my  whole  heart  have  I  sought  Thee. 
O  let  me  not  wander  from  Thy  commandments." 

Parentage — Birth — Biography  of  early  life — Visit  to  Lancaster  and  Cincinnati, 
O.,  1831-32 — Baptism — Illness  of  her  brother  James. 


OCTOBER  3,  1782,  in  the  beautiful  little  city  of  Burlington,  New 
Jersey,  John  Hulme,  the  son  of  George  and  Jeanette  Hulme,  was 
born. 

George  Hulme  was  a  Friend  or  Quaker,  and  his  wife,  Jeanette 
Neale,  a  member  of  the  "Church  of  England";  for  those  were 
days  when  the  Episcopal  Church  of  this  country  was  still  a  recog- 
nized'part  of  the  mother  Church. 

The  ancestors  of  the  Hulme  family  came  to  this  country  from 
Cheshire,  England,  about  1700,  and  settled  in  Middletown  town- 
ship, Bucks  County,  Pennsylvania.  They  were  possessed  of  energy 
and  intelligence,  and  by  marriage  connected  with  some  of  the  best 
families  of  the  country.  John  Hulme,  the  elder  brother  of  George 
Hulme,  was  a  man  of  much  influence  socially  and  politically,  a 
prosperous  business  man,  a  member  of  the  Legislature  of  Pennsyl- 
vania, the  founder  of  Hulmeville,  Bucks  County,  and  for  many 
years  the  President  of  the  Bucks  County  Bank. 

George  Hulme  moved  to  Burlington,  New  Jersey,  when  quite  a 
young  man,  married,  and  resided  there  until  his  death  in  1808. 
He,  while  deficient  in  the  business  talents  of  his  brother,  was  a 
man  of  marked  literary  tastes,  and  though  living  at  a  period  when 
the  practical  duties  of  life  called  for  constant  energy  and  diligence, 
he  found  time  to  read  all  the  best  histories  of  his  day,  and  stored 
his  memory  with  the  ancient  and  more  modern  poets,  having  the 
Iliad,  Odyssey,  Cicero's  Orations,  Milton's  and  Young's  poems, 


BIRTH    OF   JEANETTE   HULME.  23 

so  entirely  his  own,  that  he  would  entertain  his  little  family  by  the 
hour  with  his  favorite  passages.  A  favorite  book  for  his  evening 
reading  was  "Hervey's  Meditations  on  the  Starry  Heavens,"  to 
which  his  two  children  were  required  to  give  patient  attention,  and 
to  which  they  learned  to  listen  with  especial  delight.  It  was  not 
strange,  therefore,  that  they  grew  up  with  tastes  similar  to  those  of 
their  parents. 

His  wife  was  a  woman  of  fine  sensibilities,  intelligence,  and 
deep  piety.  Her  children  from  their  earliest  years  received  from 
her  the  most  careful  religious  instruction;  and  the  Bible,  even  then 
more  than  a  hundred  years  old,  from  which  the  daily  lessons  were 
read,  still  remains  a  treasured  memento  of  her  faithful  teachings. 
Through  years  of  patient  suffering,  her  lovely  Christian  character 
endeared  her  not  only  to  her  two  devoted  children,  but  to  all  who 
had  the  privilege  of  knowing  her. 

With  such  teaching,  and  such  examples,  their  son  John  grew  to 
manhood,  a  man  of  earnest,  conscientious  character,  intelligent, 
and  energetic,  but  without  especial  attachment  to  either  the  Church 
of  his  mother  or  to  the  Society  of  Friends,  until,  at  the  age  of 
twenty-two,  he  married  Martha  Craft,  of  Burlington,  a  member  of 
the  Society,  and  from  that  time  became  in  all  except  actual  mem- 
bership a  Quaker.  His  children  were  all  brought  up  as  members 
of  the  "meeting,"  but  as  they  attained  the  age  to  act  for  them- 
selves they  returned  to  the  Church  of  their  grandmother,  becoming 
earnest  Episcopalians. 

From  the  time  of  his  marriage  in  1804  John  Hulme's  family 
resided  in  and  near  Burlington,  where  all  of  their  children  were 
born.  These  were  eight  in  number:  Sarah,  George,  James,  John, 
Jeanette,  Martha,  Annie,  and  Ellen,  of  whom  only  two  survive. 

In  the  year  1840  the  family  moved  to  a  beautiful  place  on  the 
banks  of  the  Delaware  River,  near  to  Burlington,  known  as  "Point 
Pleasant,"  where  they  lived  happily  for  five  years,  until  April, 
1845,  when  they  moved  to  Brookfield,  Pa.,  of  which  place,  and  of 
the  sorrow  that  came  to  the  family  there,  more  extended  informa- 
tion is  given  hereafter. 

Their  fifth  child  and  second  daughter,  the  subject  of  these 
memoirs,  was  born  Feb.  25,  1816,  and  was  named  for  her  sainted 
grandmother.  She  was  a  beautiful,  sprightly  child,  with  a  sweet 


24  SCHOOL-DAYS. 

voice,  and  a  winning  joyousness  of  disposition,  which,  with  an  ever 
overflowing  kindness  of  heart,  made  her  most  attractive. 

Her  sister,  Martha,  two  years  her  junior,  was  quite  as  remarkable 
for  her  gentle,  quiet,  and  studious  habits,  and  the  very  contrast  in 
their  character  seemed  a  bond  of  union  between  them.  Rarely  are 
found  two  sisters  so  unlike,  yet  so  warmly  united  in  tender  love 
as  were  these.  This  sister  in  early  life  developed  a  talent  .for 
writing  both  poetry  and  prose,  and  became  the  author  of  several 
books  published  by  the  American  Sunday  School  Union  ;  in  one 
of  which  she  gives  this  loving  and  truthful  picture  of  Jeanette 
when  a  school-girl:  "At  school  her  beauty  and  sprightlinessmade 
her  the  pet  of  all ;  it  was  she  who  contrived  all  our  amusements, 
planned  all  our  excursions  into  the  neighboring  country,  drew  up 
all  our  petitions  for  a  holiday  or  a  walk,  and,  indeed,  it  was  im- 
possible for  any  party  of  pleasure  to  succeed  without  her.  She  was 
full  of  life  and  gayety,  and  her  sparkling  and  innocent  vivacity 
could  enliven  the  dullest  hour.  I  do  not  say  she  always  studied 
when  she  ought,  or  did  not  sometimes  disturb  our  gravity  during 
school  hours  by  her  mirth,  and  thus  occasion  herself  trouble,  as 
well  as  the  rest  of  us  ;  but  then  she  was  always  sorry  for  her  offence, 
and  so  anxious  that  we  should  not  share  her  punishment  that  we 
could  not  but  forgive  and  love  her  still. 

"Our  teacher  was  tenderly  attached  to  her  light-hearted  pupil, 
and  sought  most  anxiously  to  implant  in  her  young  breast  those 
holy  principles  of  conduct  that  would  give  a  right  direction  to  the 
warm  impulses  of  her  nature,  and  make  them  productive  of  real 
good  to  herself  and  others.  Her  prayers  and  efforts  seemed  for  a 
time  unsuccessful,  but  such  precious  seed  is  never  sown  in  vain. 
Jeanette  left  school  a  gay,  attractive  girl,  still  without  any  founda- 
tion for  happiness  but  the  '  broken  cisterns  '  of  earth.  How  little 
could  any  human  eye  foresee  how  peculiarly  one  so  fitted  to  shine 
in  scenes  of  pleasure  and  to  win  the  admiration  of  a  flattering  world 
would  need  the  support  that  only  the  Gospel  can  afford  !" 

From  a  letter  written  by  her  old  school  friend  (now  Mrs.  H. 
W.  B. ),  giving  some  illustrations  of  Mrs.  Plait's  character  when  a 
school-girl  at  Trenton  (N.  J.).  After  speaking  of  her  lovely  quali- 
ties, she  says  :  "  Her  compositions  were  always  good  and  original, 
displaying  at  that  time  her  gift  for  writing,  which  she  improved  in 
after  years.  When  our  teacher  concluded  the  week  by  reading  our 


VISIT   TO   OHIO — 1831.  /        25 

essays  on  Saturday  morning,  Jeanette's,  racy  and  entertaining,  were 
always  reserved  to  the  last  as  a  special  treat." 

In  the  autumn  of  1831  she  went  in  company  with  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
S.  F.  Maccracken  to  Lancaster,  Ohio,  to  visit  her  cousin,  Mrs.  M., 
the  journey  being  made  in  their  own  private  carriage. 

Mrs.  M.  was  a  lady  of  education,  strong  character,  and  strict 
religious  principles,  and  was  warmly  attached  to  her  young  cousin. 
Under  her  care  and  instruction  Jeanette  remained  for  some  months, 
when  a  promised  visit  to  her  father's  only  sister,  in  Cincinnati,  was 
claimed,  and  in  the  following  summer  she  left  Lancaster  for  that 
city.  A  daughter  of  this  aunt  thus  writes  about  this  visit :  — 

"I  shall  never  forget  the  day  we  received  notice  that  she  would 
leave  Lancaster,  nor  the  anxiety  of  my  mother  about  that  journey 
which  then  took  nearly  two  days.  It  was  at  noonday  when  the 
distant  sound  of  the  horn  announced  the  approach  of  the  stage  in 
which  we  expected  her.  Myself  and  sisters  were  looking  forward 
with  expectations  of  great  pleasure  to  the  arrival  of  a  cousin, 
daughter  of  our  mother's  only  and  dearly  loved  brother.  It 
was  a  lovely  June  day.  Our  garden  was  fragrant  with  roses  that 
ran  in  luxuriant  beauty  over  all  sides  of  the  house.  We  stood  in 
the  door  as  our  father  and  mother  went  out  to  the  garden  gate  to 
welcome  the  young  stranger.  I  well  remember  how  she  threw  her 
arms  around  my  mother's  neck  and  their  tears  flowing  together; 
the  one  shedding  those  of  warm  affection,  the  other  of  devout  thank- 
fulness 'that  the  Lord  had  brought  the  dear  child'  in  safety  to 
loving  hearts.  How  beautiful  she  looked  when,  throwing  off  her 
bonnet  and  cape,  she  stood  with  her  dark  curls  flowing  over  her 
neck  and  shoulders,  and  her  face  beaming  with  smiles.* 

"When  the  hour  for  evening  prayer  came,  she  knelt  by  'dear 
Auntie;'  and  my  father  in  his  fervent  words  'thanked  the  Lord 
for  his  protecting  care  in  the  safe  arrival  of  the  young  stranger 
who  had  come  for  a  time  to  be  one  of  us.' 

"But  these  days  of  pleasant  intercourse  were  but  few,  and  the  joy- 
ousness  of  her  spirit  was  soon  subdued,  as  she  joined  my  mother 
in  watching  by  my  bed  of  almost  fatal  illness.  What  a  comfort 

*  Her  eyes  were  of  a  lively  blue,  which,  with  her  soft  complexion,  gave  one 
the  impression  of  a  blonde,  notwithstanding  the  dark  brown  color  of  her  hair, 
which  was  abundant  and  curling.  She  was  rather  below  medium  height. 


26  CONVERSION. 

she  was!  Tender,  gentle,  and  loving,  ever  ready  to  do  anything 
to  aid  my  mother  in  her  cares.  All  this  was  a  new  life  to  her,  and 
the  words  of  daily  prayer  that  rose  from  anxious  hearts  in  that  dark 
hour,  seemed  to  waken  new  sympathies  in  her  heart,  and  struck 
that  cord  of  deep  spiritual  sensibilities  that  was  to  vibrate  through 
all  the  coming  years  of  that  beautiful  life. 

"  I  had  hardly  regained  strength  to  leave  my  room,  when  the 
angel  of  death  that  had  passed  me  by  laid  his  cold  hand  on  bur 
beloved  father,  and  with  only  three  days'  illness  took  him  from  us. 
Jeanette  was  everything  to  mother  then,  and  when  the  time  came 
for  her  to  return  home,  she  left  us  with  new  and  serious  thoughts 
of  woman's  true  life  before  her.  Some  time  after  her  return  home 
she  wrote  my  mother :  '  The  first  really  serious  thoughts  I  ever 
had,  dear  Auntie,  were  when  with  you  I  learned  that  there  was 
something  else  to  live  for  than  a  life  of  selfish  enjoyment.'  In  the 
month  of  August,  1832,  she  returned  home  under  the  care  of  some 
friends  of  her  father." 

And  now  the  blessed  teachings  of  Jeanette's  childhood  came 
back,  and  accompanied  by  those  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  not  only  dis- 
covered to  her  the  unsatisfactory  nature  of  all  earthly  joys,  but 
convinced  her  of  her  own  heart's  deep  sinfulness,  a  sense  of  which 
caused  her  to  pass  through  a  period  of  painful  depression  and  suf- 
fering. When  she  finally  emerged  from  this  sorrowful  struggle,  it 
was  to  enter  into  the  fulness  of  a  light  and  joy  which  followed  a 
very  marked  conversion.  And  so,  while  still  in  life's  beautiful 
springtime,  she  gladly  turned  from  all  that  had  once  so  satisfied 
her,  to  find  Jesus;  sat  down  at  his  feet,  and  bent  her  young  neck 
to  receive  His  yoke,  that  became  ever  afterwards  as  easy  to  her 
love  as  were  His  burdens  light  to  her  soul. 

Her  Christian  course  was  onward  and  upward  ever  after,  as 
with  full  consent  she  consecrated  to  God  all  her  power  of  winning 
notice  and  affection,  her  brilliant  conversational  talents,  and  those 
natural  gifts  that  had  rendered  her  so  fascinating  as  a  companion 
and  friend. 

It  was  with  a  deepening  religious  experience  that  she  now 
approached  the  season  of  her  public  consecration  of  herself  to 
Christ  and  his  Church ;  and  the  occasion  to  her  was  one  of  deep 
solemnity  and  much  earnest  feeling,  when,  at  the  age  of  eighteen, 
with  her  brother  John,  she  was  baptized,  and  afterwards  with  him 


BAPTISM^CONFIRMATION.  27 

confirmed  by  Bishop  Doane  in  St.  Mary's  Church,  Burlington; 
three  members  of  their  family  having  before  united  with  St. 
Andrew's  Church,  Philadelphia,  then  under  the  pastoral  care  of 
Rev.  Dr.  G.  T.  Bedell. 

Something  of  the  deep  feeling  with  which  she  entered  on  this 
public  profession  of  Christ  is  manifested  in  the  following  extract 
from  a  letter,  requesting  her  eldest  sister  to  be  one  of  her  witnesses 
on  this  occasion:  "It  is  my  earnest  request  that,  if  in  the  future 
you  should  find  me  in  the  smallest  degree  deviating  from  the  right 
path,  you  will  immediately,  with  all  the  faithfulness  which  as  a 
sister  and  witness  may  be  expected  from  you,  remind  me  of  the 
solemn  vow,  promise,  and  profession  that  I  have  made.  I  am  so 
surrounded  by  temptations,  and  so  easily  turned  aside,  that  I  very 
much  fear  you  will  often  be  pained  by  my  inconsistencies.  May 
we  trust  only  to  that  strength  which  is  made  perfect  in  weakness." 

Scarcely  had  the  first  question  of  every  renewed  heart,  "  Lord, 
what  wilt  Thou  have  me  to  do?"  passed  her  lips,  before  a  path  of 
self-denying  duty  opened  before  her,  and  for  which  her  natural 
powers  eminently  fitted  her.  It  was  not  to  glorify  Him  in  the 
midst  of  the  temptations  of  society,  and  to  "adorn  the  doctrine  of 
God  her  Saviour,"  in  the  discharge  of  a  public  station  that  the 
Lord  now  called  his  young  servant,  but  placed  her  instead  in  the 
chamber  of  sickness  and  death.  Affliction  followed  affliction  in 
the  circle  of  those  dear  to  her,  and  as  she  was  again  and  again 
called  to  an  unusual  ministry  of  sorrow,  the  bright  and  cheery  love 
and  devotion  she  brought  to  this  altar  of  sacrifice,  told  how  true 
and  sincere  had  been  her  final  dedication  to  Christ.  No  hand 
could  now  so  well  smooth  the  pillow,  or  administer  consolation  to 
the  sick  and  dying  as  hers.  It  was  to  her  that  the  weary  eye 
turned  for  comfort.  It  was  her  voice  that,  though  her  own  heart 
was  bursting  with  its  suppressed  anguish,  could  still  speak  in  cheer- 
ful tones  the  words  of  consolation. 

Among  the  sad  duties  assigned  to  her  during  these  years  was 
that  of  enlightening  and  solacing  the  weary  days  of  a  beloved  in- 
valid brother,  who,  being  laid  aside  from  active  duty,  passed 
through  months  and  years  of  languor  and  disease,  and  having  "en- 
dured as  seeing  Him  who  is  invisible,"  at  length  found  rest  in  the 
bosom  of  his  God.  Her  elasticity  of  spirits  and  vivacity  of  manner 
were  all  brought  into  use  to  beguile  and  support  the  patient  sufferer. 


28  FAITHFUL   TO    DUTIES. 

How  much  these  were  to  him,  springing,  as  they  did,  from  the 
never-failing  hopes  of  the  Gospel,  only  those  to  whom  God  hath 
appointed  days  of  weariness  and  pain  can  appreciate.  In  addition 
to  this  constant  sorrow,  the  loved  mother,  by  reason  of  ill' health, 
became  unable  to  fulfil  her  duties,  and  then  Jeanette  was  the 
burden-bearer  in  that  home.  She  was  beloved  by  brothers  and 
sisters  who  were  older,  and  looked  up  to  for  direction  and  affec- 
tion by  those  who  were  younger. 

[This  biographical  sketch  is  taken  principally  from  her  sister  Martha's  book 
before  referred  to,  and  from  notes  furnished  by  her  cousin,  Rebecca  S.  Price.] 


LETTERS  TO  MARY  HARRISON.  29 


III. 

"  There  shall  be  no  more  death." 

Letters  to  Mary  H. — Christmas,  1839 — Devotion  to  her  brother  James — His  death, 
1840 — Letters  from  Mrs.  Bedell  and  Rev.  Dr   Tyng. 

TO  MARY  HARRISON. 

BURLINGTON,  Nov.  1838. 

IT  is  a  great  secret,  dear  Mary,  that  I  am  writing  to  you  to-night, 
no  one  does,  no  one  must  know  anything  about  it — I  am  writing 
just  to  please  myself.  To  begin  with  myself  as  most  important,  I 
am  in  the  kitchen  seated  on  my  "high  stool"  by  the  breakfast 
table  writing  to  cousin  Mary.  Father  and  mother  are  in  the  parlor, 
the  former  reading  newspapers;  the  latter,  perhaps,  darning  stock- 
ings. A.  and  E.  are  at  present  making  sundry  noises  upstairs, 
indicating  a  preparation  for  bed.  (N.  B. —  "Luce"  has  just  called 
down  for  me  to  "excuse  the  interruption  of  her  shoe  falling  down 
the  'hole,'  and  begs  I  will  remember  to  bring  it  upstairs  when  I 
come.") 

James  and  I  went  to  Philadelphia,  as  aunt  told  you;  though  it 
was  inconvenient  to  leave  home  so  unexpectedly  at  this  season,  I 
thought  it  right  to  go  with  James.  It  took  me  several  days  to  feel 
at  home  in  Philadelphia,  as  you  know  I  do  so  dislike  a  city;  and 
just  as  I  was  beginning  to  feel  comfortable  father  wrote  down  to 
know  if  one  of  the  other  girls  could  not  take  my  place,  as  I  was 
wanted  at  home.  Ann  brought  me  the  message  on  Monday, 
stayed  the  night,  and  took  me  off  next  morning  to  the  boat  before 
6  o'clock;  I  say  "took,"  for  I  am  sure  I  would  never  have  done 
all  this  but  for  her  perseverance;  she  slept  with  me  in  a  little  bed 
in  James's  room,  and  had  me  bright  and  early  awake,  dressed,  and 


30  SELF-CONDEMNED. 

walking  to  the  boat  while  the  moon  and  stars  were  yet  shining 
brightly.  Father  brought  James  home  on  Friday;  he  had  been 
somewhat  better  during  part  of  his  visit,  but  that  day  was  quite  un- 
well. .  .  .  Early  on  Monday  morning  Eliza  (our  girl)  was  taken 
sick  and  obliged  to  leave  us ;  our  washerwoman  stayed  till  noon, 
and  from  that  time  I  have  been  mistress  of  the  kitchen — no  envia- 
ble situation,  I  assure  you,  in  buckwheat-cake  times!  To, be  sure 
we  have  a  nice  little  black  girl  who  will  run  whenever  and  wherever 
I  wish,  but  she  cannot  work.  Truly,  a  woman's  life  is  trying  !  so 
much  do  we  have  to  do  and  bear  for  the  "lords  of  creation!" 
One  poor  finger  is  burnt  here,  another  there — my  face  suffused  with 
a  blush  too  deep  and  durable  to  be  natural.  Oh  !  I  cannot  tell  you 
half  my  troubles  in  this  way ;  suffice  it  to  say,  I  am  cook.  But 
what  is  worse  than  all  I  am  cross,  selfish,  and  everything  that  is 
unpleasant  and  wrong,  and  yet  think  myself  everything  that  is 
nice.  Of  one  thing  I  am  assured,  I  never  knew  myself  before, 
would  never  have  believed  I  had  such  a  bad  disposition.  I  do 
"hope"  I  shall  not  feel  this  way  when  I  am  an  "old  maid."  .  .  .  . 
I  am  not  patient  and  kind,  seeking  first  to  make  those  around 
me  happy,  but  selfish,  so  selfish,  I  get  worried  and  tired,  and  sadly 
out  of  humor  with  myself  and  everybody ;  those  about  me  know 
but  little  how  I  feel :  dear  James  said  to  me  to  night  as  I  was  "fixing 
him  in  his  bed,"  "  Jeanette,  this  has  been  one  of  my  bad,  cross 
days,  and  yesterday  was  one  of  yours."  I  have  often  intended  to 
write  what  I  would  not  say.  Will  cousin  Mary  remember  me  daily? 
I  will  not  thank,  you,  can  only  say,  the  Lord  will  repay.  May  He 
be  our  ruler  and  guide,  that  we  may  so  pass  through  things  tem- 
poral, that  we  finally  lose  not  the  things  eternal !  We  are  ignorant, 
proud,  and  averse  to  all  that  is  good.;  our  only  trust  is  in  Him  who 
is  "the  way,  the  truth,  and  the  life,"  who  loves  us  as  we  are,  and 
who  is  leading  us  by  ways  we  know  not  to  Himself.  .... 
Sarah  Richards  and  Matt,  left  us  this  morning  in  early  boat ;  I  am 
glad  I  can  say  my  temper  rather  improved  while  she  was  here,  and 
the  last  few  days  I  have  not  been  so  cross  ;  this  is  owing,  I  think, 
partly  to  the  happy  influence  of  writing  to  you,  dear  cousin,  and 
this  is  another  reason  why  you  must  let  me  write  to  you  often. 

I  am  still  mistress  of  the  kitchen,  and  am  considered  to  have 
brought  the  art  of  cooking  almost  to  perfection — this,  I  believe,  is 
John's  testimony,  though  only  borne  when  he  sees  I  am  in  a 


NINE    DEAR   COUSINS.  3! 

"bother,"  which  is  quite  often  enough  for  comfort.  Indeed,  I 
despair  of  ever  keeping  house  like  cousin  Rebecca,  so  calm,  quiet, 
and  everything  that  is  right,  who  is  not  only  happy  herself  but  dif- 
fuses happiness  to  all  around.  But  it  is  a  great  comfort  to  have 
such  "nice"  relations,  even  if  you  are  not  "nice"  yourself.  You 
must  expect  to  see  me  look  and  act  ten  years  older  (quite  matronly, 
etc.  etc.,  now  that  I  have  assumed  such  new  responsibilities).  It 
is  now  high  time  to  call  me  "our  old  cousin  Jeanette" — but  re- 
member, though  I  am  so  old  and  venerable,  my  young  relations 
are  as  dear  as  ever;  I  am  as  much  interested  in  their  happiness, 
and  hope  yet  to  prove  to  them  how  useful  and  happy  old  maids 
can  be. 

BURLINGTON,  April  3,  1839. 

.  .  .  .  Dear  Mary,  there  were  nine  of  us !  Nine  dear 
cousins  professed  the  faith  of  Jesus,  by  partaking  of  the  emblems 
of  his  broken  body  and  shed  blood !  Oh !  may  not  only  these, 
but  all  dear  to  us,  all  united  by  the  ties  of  kindred,  know  the  ful- 
filment of  our  Saviour's  promise,  "Whoever  shall  confess  me  be- 
fore men,  him  will  I  also  confess  before  my  father  which  is  in 
heaven."  ....  You  ask  after  James's  health?  This  week 
he  has  seemed  much  better,  has  been  able  to  go  into  the  garden  a 
few  minutes  at  a  time,  and  yesterday  took  with  John  his  first  walk 
this  year;  went  about  a  half  square  without  much  fatigue.  But, 
dear,  it  has  been  just  so  all  winter;  some  weeks  of  comfortable 
health,  and  others  of  suffering  and  weakness.  I  do  not  think  I 
shall  leave  him  this  summer.  He  told  me  one  evening,  when 
quite  unwell,  that  I  must  try  and  keep  my  spirits  up,  that  he  de- 
pended upon  me,  he  said,  "I  feel  more  comfortable  with  you  than 
any  one  else.  You  must  try  and  stay  with  me  as  much  as  you 
can." 

SUNDAY  EVE,  Nov.  3,  1839. 

.  .  .  .  And  now,  how  can  I  tell  you  what  I  wish  to?  Dear 
Mary,  mother  is  well.  Again  her  pleasant  smile,  gentle  voice,  and 
all,  all  she  ever  was,  is  with  us,  bringing  joy  and  gladness  to  our 
fireside!  How  can  we  express  our  thankfulness  to  "Him  from 
whom  cometh  every  good  and  perfect  gift?"  She  returned  from 
Cousin  Patty's  on  Friday  last  perfectly  well;  we  had  heard  she 


32  CHRISTMAS — A   NEW   PLAN. 

was  better,  and  were  prepared  to  find  her  somewhat  so — but  to  find 
her  well,  perfectly  restored!  Dear  Cousin,  it  has  seemed  too,  too 
good  to  be  true,  and  until  to-day  I  have  not  fully  believed  it.  It 
is,  I  think,  just  one  year  since  I  wrote  to  you  of  mother's  sickness, 
told  you  (who  I  knew  would  so  kindly  listen)  all  my  fears,  my 
griefs  and  sorrows.  I  remember  I  thought  at  first  we  never  should 
be  happy  again,  but  this  was  only  a  transient  feeling.  I  hope  I 
then  felt  ''All  is  well." 

CHRISTMAS,  1839. 

I  awoke  this  morning  some  time  before  the  other  girls,  and  as  I 
watched  the  morning  light  grow  brighter  and  brighter,  I  remem- 
bered it  was  the  cheerful  Christmas  day,  I  thought  of  all  that  was 
to  have  been,  and  all  that  is,  of  those  sources  of  joy,  reasons  for 
joy,  that  never  can  be  taken  away.  It  must  ever  be  a  "cheerful" 
day  !  None  other  can  tell  us  so  of  Him  who  became  man  !  Who 
took  upon  him  our  nature,  that  he  might  not  only  be  all  powerful 
as  our  God,  but  all  sympathy  as  man,  our  "  brother  !".... 
I  determined  before  I  left  my  bed  that  this  should  be  quite  a  nice 
sort  of  Christmas,  that  I  would  try  a  new  plan,  and  see  how 
"things  would  do."  And  you  don't  know-how  "nicely"  they 
have  done  !  I  concluded  to  try  and  make  myself  happy  by  making 
others  so.  Now,  this  is  a  very  fine  thing  to  talk  about,  but  quite 
another  thing  to  do,  at  least  so  says  my  experience.  I  only  ask 
credit  for  the  resolution,  for  I  must  say,  I  have  been  several  times 
very  naughty,  and  I  am  quite  sure  I  heard  some  one  say  something 
about  "her  being  cross."  And  "Annie,"  who  dined  with  me, 
again  and  again  said,  "You  are  the  queerest,  the  very  queerest, 
girl  I  ever  did  see."  Indeed,  dear  Mary,  I  have  made  up  my 
mind  that  "Annie"  is  right.  All  that  I  attempt  to  say  is,  that  I  am 
to  no  one  more  queer  than  to  myself — "  a  contradiction  of  contra- 
dictions." ....  I  send  you  "  Mrs.  Breckenridge."  There 
is  a  something  in  it,  dear  Mary,  that  reminds  me  of  "  ourselves." 
Some  say  it  is  a  book  about  nothing,  but  it  is  not  so  to  me,  "she 
lived  and  died."  This  may  be,  must  be,  all  that  can  be  said  of 
any  one  of  "us."  There  is  that  fear,  doubt,  and  timidity  in  her  re- 
ligious character  that  make  her  seem  like  a  friend.  I  can  say  I 
trembled  for  her  when  I  found  she  was  passing  through  the  "dark 
valley,"  and  I  never  shall  forget  that  her  end  was  "peace."  It 


JAMES   HULME — HIS    DEATH.  33 

seemed  to  say  to  me  the  weakest,  the  most  fearful,  most  sinful, 
shall  be  more  than  conquerors  through  Him  who  loved  us. 

But  little  is  said  of  her,  but  to  me  that  little  is  much.  It  re- 
minded me  of  our  long  conversation  last  summer.  She,  'tis  said, 
was  always  afraid  to  whisper,  even  to  her  dearest  friend,  her  re- 
ligious joys — often  afraid  to  tell  her  sorrow  or  the  joy  and  peace 
He  had  given,  lest  she  should  be  found  offering  "strange  fire"  on 
His  altar.  And  yet  she  found  there  had  ever  been  underneath  her 
the  "everlasting  arms." 

Jeanette  was  especially  devoted  to  her  brother  James.  While 
an  invalid  at  home,  and  gradually  passing  away  from  earth,  she 
was  his  unwearied  nurse,  his  cheering  companion,  and  trusted 
counsellor.  His  frequent  depression  was  in  some  measure  owing 
to  his  having  been  obliged  to  relinquish  his  cherished  hope  of 
preaching  the  Gospel  of  Christ,  by  reason  of  failing  health. 

One  day  during  his  illness  (he  was  confined  to  his  bed  but  a 
single  day)  he  spoke  of  their  having  been  all  so  happy  together, 
and  then,  referring  to  his  present  weakness,  he  added,  "Jeanette 
tries  to  get  me  to  live  day  by  day — 'as  thy  days,  so  shall  thy  strength 
be.' '  She  said,  "  You  will  find  it  so,  dear;  I  am  sure  you  will." 
With  the  most  touching  simplicity  he  replied,  "Jeanette  tells  me  I 
shall."  Then  preparing  to  lie  down,  he  said  in  a  tone  of  the 
utmost  tenderness,  "I  think  we  shall  know  each  other  hereafter; 
I  know  we  shall." 

His  head  rested  on  that  sister's  bosom  when  he  passed  away, 
gently  as  an  infant  falling  to  sleep,  on  the  2pth  of  February,  1840. 

To  MRS.  GEORGE  HARRISON,  on  the  death  of  her  brother  James. 

BRISTOL,  Pa.,  March,  1840. 
MY  OWN  DEAR  COUSIN  : 

.  .  .  We  assemble  around  the  table,  gather  around  the 
hearth,  and  are  almost  cheerful.  We  are  not  unhappy.  Is  not 
our  dear  one  missed  ?  Oh !  look  into  each  heart,  as  the  vacant 
seat,  the  deserted  chair,  the  absent  quiet,  gentle,  and  lovely  face, 
all  tell  the  precious  one  has  left  us.  Left  us?  No,  not  left  us. 
God  has  taken  him  !  He  now  rests  on  the  bosom  of  his  Redeemer. 
Oh,  my  dearest  cousin,  we  dare  not  weep ;  we  do  not  wish  him 
3 


34  LETTER  FROM  MRS.  BEDELL. 

back.  Long  has  he  been  going  home,  and  now  he  is  safely  folded 
in  his  Father's  arms  in  that  rest  which  remaineth  for  the  people  of 
God.  Not  for  any  righteousness  which  he  has  done,  not  for  any 
merit  in  himself,  but  for  his  Saviour's  merit,  for  the  sake  of  the 
blood  shed,  the  Lamb  slain.  This  was  his  only  hope.  "The 
blood  of  Christ  cleanseth  from  all  sin."  "Blessed  are  the  dead 
who  die  in  the  Lord." 

Thy 

JEANETTE. 

From    MRS.   BEDELL,    widow  of  Rev.  G.    T.  Bedell,  D.D.,   Rector  of  St. 
Andrew's  Church,  on  the  death  of  James  Hulme,  to  his  eldest  sister. 

March,  1840. 

Still  confined  to  the  house  by  sickness,  I  assume,  my  afflicted 
friend,  to  express  on  paper  the  feelings  of  a  heart  that  has  learned 
to  sympathize  in  the  bitterness  of  experience.  Bitterness  did  I 
say?  And  has  the  Christian's  cup  of  affliction  no  ingredient  but 
bitterness?  Where  are  the  "everlasting  arms?"  Where  the 
faith  that  looks  beyond  the  grave,  sees  the  captive  drop  his  chains 
of  earth,  and,  washed  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb,  mount  higher  and 
higher  to  mansions  prepared  in  the  skies  ?  A  faithful  follower  of 
the  Lamb,  he  is  not  in  the  grave,  but  now  with  robes  made  white, 
realizes  those  ecstatic  joys  found  in  the  society  of  saints  and  angels ; 
the  mere  -anticipation  of  which  makes  all  things  worthless  to  them 
that  remain. 

Your  brother's  life  was  a  beautiful  unbroken  consistency,  exhibit- 
ing in  death  that  soft  mellow  light,  which,  like  the  rays  of  the  set- 
ting sun,  we  linger  and  love  to  look  upon.  The  light  is  now  gone 
forever ;  but  far  above  our  world  will  it  rise  in  resplendent  glory. 
And  shall  we  mourn  for  this? 

The  obituary  in  the  "Recorder,"  my  dear  friend,  has  awakened 
sad  but  sweet  reminiscences;  and  having  just  heard  that  you  had  re- 
turned to  the  city,  I  lay  it  down  to  give  expression  to  my  thoughts 
as  they  arise,  feeling  that  we  can  reciprocate  sympathies.  One 
still  remains  unuttered  sweeter  than  them  all ;  they  have  met!  Ah, 
enviable  privilege!  Pastor  and  people,  one  by  one.  There  was 
"no  mourning  there!"  Our  journey,  my  friend,  will  soon  be  over, 
and  we  too  shall  know  and  be  known.  Blessed  anticipation!  Life 


REV.  DR.  TYNG  TO  JAMES  HULME.  35 

the  only  shadow,  the  dark  valley  between ;  death  and  the  grave 
the  open  door  to  eternal  joys.  In  faith  and  hope,  my  Christian 
friend,  we  '11  journey  on,  in  weariness  refreshed  with  Gospel  con- 
solations, till  our  convoy  is  sent  to  bring  us,  too,  to  the  consumma- 
tion of  the  glorious  promises. 

With  kindest  regard  to  your  afflicted  sister,  I  remain  yours  in 
bonds  of  Christian  love. 

P.  BEDELL. 

A  few  days  before  the  death  of  James  Hulme  the  following  letter 
was  written  to  him  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Tyng: — 

PHILADELPHIA,  Feb.  25,  1840. 
MY  DEAR  FRIEND  AND  BROTHER  : — 

I  wrote  you  a  few  lines  some  weeks  ago,  wishing  to  do  some  little 
thing,  by  the  blessing  of  God,  to  encourage  and  edify  you  in  your 
time  of  trial.  I  have  since  heard  frequently  of  you  and  of  your  con- 
dition. Painful  as  it  is  even  for  a  season  to  be  separated  from  those 
we  love,  I  cannot  but  praise  God  that  you  are  apparently  so  near 
the  beholding  of  Jesus  in  his  glory,  and  sitting  at  His  feet,  to  go  no 
more  out  from  him.  How  happy  is  the  prospect!  How  precious 
will  be  the  sight  and  the  possession  of  that  adorable  Lord  as  your 
own  forever!  He  loved  you  before  the  foundation  of  the  world;, 
and  He  will  love  you  when  the  world  has  ceased  to  exist.  He 
assumed,  in  a  solemn  and  everlasting  covenant,  all  your  responsi- 
bilities, both  of  suffering  and  obedience,  and  finished  his  under- 
taking with  infinite  perfection.  He  sought  you  when  you  were 
lying  in  your  actual  guilt,  ready  to  perish,  and  led  you  to  make  a 
mutual  agreement  with  Him,  that  you  would  be  His,  and  He  would 
be  yours  forever.  And  though  you  could  bring  Him  nothing,  and 
could  do  nothing  for  him,  He  entered  with  you  into  an  everlasting 
partnership  in  which  His  riches  of  righteousness  were  to  make  up 
for  your  total  insolvency,  His  power  to  supply  your  entire  weakness, 
His  wisdom  to  guide  your  erring  ignorance,  and  His  permanence 
and  unchangeable  purpose  to  overrule  and  govern  your  fickleness 
and  unstable  spirit.  .  .  .  He  put  into  your  possession  His  un- 
limited atonement,  His  almighty  power,  His  actual  conquests,  His 
eternal  habitation.  .  .  .  Now,  are  you  not  rich?  Are  you 
not  full?  May  you  not  reign  in  life  as  a  king,  by  Him,  even. 
Jesus  Christ? 


36  UNUTTERABLE    BLESSEDNESS. 

But  does  Unbelief  ever  say,  "How  can  all  this  be?  I  have 
brought  Him  nothing?  I  have  done  nothing  for  Him?"  And 
does  Despondency  echo,  "Amen,  so  it  is?  How  can  you  rejoice 
in  hope  of  the  glory  of  God?"  Let  Faith  answer,  "My  blessed 
partner  does  not  require  anything,  He  finds  everything.  He  ex- 
pects nothing,  He  brings  the  whole.  He  is  the  same  yesterday, 
to-day,  and  forever.  What  He  was  when  he  first  loved  me,  He 
will  remain  to  me  forever,  the  source  and  fountain  of  all  that  I 
need,  of  all  that  I  can  desire.  And  I  fly  from  my  sins  to  Him ; 
and  if  I  could  find  excellences  in  myself,  I  would  fly  from  them, 
too,  just  as  certainly,  and  cast  myself,  poor  and  naked,  upon  Him, 
that  he  might  do  all  the  work,  and  have  all  the  glory."  Oh,  how 
can  I  but  say  to  you  in  such  circumstances,  not  "poor  James,  I 
am  sorry  for  you,"  but  "rich  James,  happy  James,  I  rejoice  for 
you,  and  rejoice  with  you."  What  a  portion  is  yours!  The  King 
of  angels  and  saints  stands  by  you,  to  guard,  to  keep,  to  bless,  and 
to  perfect  you.  Oh,  my  happy,  happy  brother,  to  have  found  this 
perfect  Jesus,  or  to  have  been  found  by  Him !  How  precious  He 
is  now  to  you !  How  inconceivably  sufficient  for  your  waiting 
soul !  Now  sing  songs  of  praise  in  the  house  of  your  pilgrimage ; 
rejoice  and  be  exceeding  glad,  for  great  indeed  is  your  portion 
and  your  prospect.  Forget  yourself  in  person,  and  think  of  your- 
self in  partnership.  Renounce  all  that  could  in  any  sense  be  called 
your  own,  that  you  may  seek  only  the  things  which  are  Jesus 
Christ's.  Look  as  simply -as  possible  to  His  works  as  past,  as 
present,  and  as  to  come.  Will  He  lose  a  soul  He  has  loved  ?  Has 
He  died  in  vain  ?  He  holds  you  in  the  hollow  of  His  hand  as  a 

jewel  of  His  electing  love Be  of  good  cheer,  then;  the 

Lord  is  with  you.  You  will  soon  wear  the  crown  which  His 
righteousness  has  merited,  and  which  His  hand  will  bestow.  And 
soon  some  of  us  will  come  after  you.  What  glory  will  open  upon 
you!  How  affecting  is  the  thought!  A  thin  veil,  just  ready  to 
drop  from  its  own  weakness  and  decay,  is  all  that  hides  from  you 
the  glory  of  that  countenance  that  fills  the  heavens  with  bliss.  How 
you  will  wonder!  How  you  will  adore!  "Is  this  my  Saviour? 
my  Jesus?  my  own  Lord  forever?  Oh,  blessedness  unutterable ! 
What  a  portion,  what  a  change  for  my  weary,  empty,  helpless  soul !" 

Well,  my  dear  brother,  all  this  is  yours.  Be  of  good  cheer, 
then,  writes  your  affectionate  friend  and  pastor, 

STEPHEN  H.  TYNG. 


POINT   PLEASANT.  37 


IV. 

"  Casting  all  your  care  upon  Him,  for  He  careth  for  you." 

1840-1846 — Point  Pleasant — Letters  to  her  sister  Martha — My  birthday,  1843 — 
Clear  views  of  the  doctrine  of  justification  by  faith — Visit  to  Harrisburgh, 
Lewisburg,  and  Blue  Hill — A  literary  hermit — Letter  to  E.  G.  H. — Brookfield 
— Rev.  D.  A.  Tyng — Death  of  her  parents — Letters  to  H.  W.  B.  and  Mrs.  R. 
Harrison,  "mother" — Marriage  of  her  sister  Martha  a  great  loss — Letters  to 
her  sister  M.  and  Rev.  Dr.  Damon. 

FROM  HER  SISTER  MARTHA. 

POINT  PLEASANT,  May  20,  1840. 
MY  DEAR  SISTER  JEANETTE  : — 

.  We  have  missed  you  much ;  it  seems  as  if  all  the 
light  and  life  of  the  house  were  gone.  I  do  not  think  there  has 
been  a  loud  laugh  heard  since  you  left.  Laughter  and  merriment 
went  with  you,  and  I  am  about  forming  the  opinion  that,  as  a 
family,  with  the  exception  of  yourself,  we  are  remarkably  grave. 
I,  at  least,  am  so,  who  sometimes  fear  that  I  am  getting  wild.  But 
you  are  the  spirit  that  rules,  and,  when  left  alone,  there  is  no 
danger  of  levity  with  me.  You  are  the  sunshine,  and  I  the 
shadow.  .  .  .  . 

Point  Pleasant  looks  beautiful  this  morning — so  beautiful  that  it 
gives  me  painful  feelings.  What  a  coloring  the  heart  can  throw 
over  the  brightest  scenes  !  Truly,  our  own  minds  make  this  world. 
In  looking  around  on  all  that  is  so  fair,  the  eye  of  faith  dwells  with 
comfort  at  least — it  ought  to  be  with  happiness — on  that  bright, 
fair  home  above,  into  which  sin  and  death  cannot  enter. 

"  No  sorrow  dims  the  air 
Breathed  by  our  loved  one  there." 

But  forgive  me  for  this  sad  strain — a  shadowing  out  of  some  of 
the  many  feelings  that  have  oppressed  me. 

[This  sadness  must  have  been  inspired  by  the  recent  death  of  their  brother 
James.] 


38  KITCHEN    EXPERIENCE. 


TO  MARTHA  HULME. 

POINT  PLEASANT,  January  2,  1841. 

Well,  dear  Primrose,  you  may  be  glad  enough  you  were  making 
a  visitation  to  your  married  sister,  instead  of  a  "child  at  home," 
for  like  as  not  you  would  have  been  waked  up  by  this  time.  Dear 
me!  we  have  had  all  sorts  of  a  time  to-day.  "  My  sister  she  took 
sick,  and  I  was  very  poorly;"  and  "auld  Robin  came  a-courting 
of  me."  Yes,  this  is  all  true,  just  as  you  see,  only  you  must  make 
auld  Robin  come  before  the  people  all  took  sick.  Well,  just  to 
tell  you  about  it.  mother  got  off  to  the  party  in  the  "  harracane" 
No.  i,  New  Year's  day,  1841  (I  want  to  write  the  41  very  often,  for 
somehow  I  don't  make  very  good  looking  4i's),  and  left  me  sole 
occupant  of  the  spacious  kitchen  of  Point  Pleasant  for  the  day. 
Commencing  at  10^  o'clock  I  made  thirty-one  pies!  Mince  pies? 
Yes,  thirty-one  mince  pies!  Was  not  that  enough  of  itself  to  make 
me  begin  to  be  "  poorly."  To  be  sure,  for  the  sake  of  exactness, 
I  must  say  sixteen  were  little  patty-pan  pies  the  size  of  my  thumb. 
And  then  I  said  I  was  sole  occupant  of  the  kitchen.  Mary  Ann 
and  Phoebe  were  both  there.  I  had  a  fine  time  after  all,  as  I  told 
mother  last  evening.  By  begging  and  bribing  I  had  dry  wood  cut 
by  Bill  to  fit  the  oven,  and  dry  wood  cut  to  fit  the  stove,  and  plenty 
of  it,  too  !  I  told  mother  she  could  not  conceive  of  the  quiet  satis- 
faction, the  delightful,  aye,  joyful  feelings  I  experienced  to  see  the 
fires  "go"  as  they  did  !  And  then  the  pork  that  I  never  got  boiled 
enough  ;  ah !  it  boiled  that  day.  The  stove  was  hot,  so  that  both 
oven  doors  might  be  left  open;  and  the  boiler,  with  a  snug  little 
piece  of  pork  in  the  bottom,  covered  with  water,  with  plenty  of 
room  to  do  as  it  pleased,  was  cheerfully  fixed  in  its  place.  Yes, 
cheerfully,  for  crack !  crack !  went  the  dry  wood  in  the  stove,  bubble, 
bubble,  the  boiler  of  pork,  whiz!  whiz  !  the  little  sticks  of  the  pie 
oven.  Moreover,  your  humble  servant  was  warm  ! 

And  then  the  thirty-one  pies  began  to  make.  Miss  Jeanette 
made,  rolled,  and  put  the  crust  in  the  dish,  and  then  it  was  handed 
over  to  Miss  Phcebe  (who  presided  over  the  ornamental  depart- 
ment), who  filled,  clipped,  picked,  and  pricked,  and  landed  it 
safely  in  the  oven.  Of  course  we  had  no  dinner,  not  having  time. 
John  had  gone  to  attend  to  a  goose  with  Frank,  and  Miss  E.,  why, 


LAST  LOOK  OF  THE  PAST.  39 

in  the  midst  of  all  the  "harracanes"  she  took  and  went  to  church! 
We  stopped  the  rolling  and  picking  about  12  o'clock,  and  sent 
for  Miss  Anne  to  come  and  take  a  "snatch"  standing.  The  blow- 
ing of  the  wind,  the  whirling  of  the  snow,  rocking  of  the  trees,  etc., 
being  just  as  they  were,  all  expectation  of  seeing  Miss  E.  was  cut 
off;  when  lo  !  she  was  descried  on  a  blow,  making  to  (as  the  sailors 
say)  the  green  gate.  She  had  arrived  in  time  to  get  a  piece  of 
"snatch,"  and  declared  "the  day  was  fine  for  walking,"  "couldn't 
tell  how  it  made  her  feel"  to  hear  the  hail  and  snow  jostle  together, 
and  ring  and  tingle  as  it  fell  on  her  umbrella. 

We  were  tired  enough  by  night.  In  the  midst  of  all,  the 
"country  cousins"  arrived!  By  5  o'clock  felt  done  over,  what 
with  one  thing  and  another/  Now,  you  will  hardly  believe  that 
new  year's  day  is  recorded  as  one  of  the  most  sober  of  my  life. 
There  has  been  something  in  the  last  look  of  the  past,  and  the  first 
word  of  the  present  season,  that  has  found  its  way  even  to  my  feel- 
ings, long  to  be  remembered.  How  wisely  have  our  daily  crumbs 
been  meted  to  us!  As  our  old  friend  passes  away  forever,  his  last 
word  is  heard:  "Behold,  I  come  quickly;"  and  as  we  close  our 
eyes  with  a  sense  of  what  we  are  within,  and  what  may  be  without, 
the  gentle  whisper  of  him  who  supplies  the  place  of  our  departed 
friend  is  in  our  ear:  "As  thy  day  so  shall  thy  strength  be;"  "My 
grace  is  sufficient  for  thee,  my  strength  is  made  perfect  in  weak- 
ness." May  these  blessed  promises  speak  to  two  of  "the  least," 
even  as  they  should,  as  they  were  freely  given ! 

Where  am  I,  dear  Matt  ?  My  letter  is  April-like,  begun  in  smiles 
and  likely  to  end  in  tears.  The  name  of  the  author  explains  all. 
.  .  .  .  'Tis  now  ii  P.  M. ;  the  day  is  past,  and  we  had  a  com- 
fortable time  of  it,  after  all Good  night,  dear  Prim- 
rose ;  have  not  time  to  say  one  word  about  your  letter. 

JEANETTE. 

In  concluding  a  letter  to  her  sister  Martha,  she  writes  on  Jan. 
18,  1841. 

DEAR  MATT  : — 

.  .  .  .  There  are  two  or  three  little  things  I  want  you  to 
remember,  as  kind  of  directions:  "Earth  has  no  sorrow  that 
Heaven  cannot  cure;"  "Let  patience  have  her  perfect  work;" 


40  OLD  OLNEY  HYMN-BOOK. 

"The  trial  of  our  faith  being  much  more  precious."  Aunt  Price 
sent  me  her  old  Olney  hymn-book ;  let  me  send  you  a  verse  or  two. 

Through  all  the  various  shifting  scenes 

Of  life's  mistaken  ill  or  good, 
Thy  hand,  O  God,  conducts  unseen 

The  beautiful  vicissitude. 

Thy  ways,  O  Lord,  with  wise  design 

Are  formed  upon  thy  throne  above; 
And  every  dark  unblending  line 

Meets  in  the  centre  of  thy  love. 

It  does  seem  to  me  you  are  afraid  to  enjoy  all  the  privileges  of 
the  glorious  Gospel.  .•  .  Has  He  not  said,  "  I  will  never 

leave  thee?"  You  will  be  able  to  bear  and  surfer  all  that  His  love 
for  you  deems  necessary.  With  every  temptation  there  will — you 
know  there  will — be  a  way  of  escape. 

SISTER  JEANETTE. 

Mrs.  Platt's  character,  was  many  sided,  each  of  which  in  its  full 
development  seemed  to  stand  out  clear  and  distinctive — and  none 
more  so  than  was  the  "  joyousness"  of  this  nature,  as  if  way  down 
in  her  heart  was  some  hidden  "spring  of  joy"  that,  bursting  out 
in  childhood's  happy  years,  had  been  coursing  its  way  all  through 
this  checkered  life,  with  waters  so  bright  and  sparkling  in  their  flow 
as  to  make  glad  and  beautiful  all  around — to  her  it  had  become  a 
11  joy  to  think  the  best  she  could  of  human  kind."  This  playful 
joyousness  is  well  expressed  in  two  letters  written  from  Point 
Pleasant  to  her  sister  Martha. 

TO  MARTHA  HULME. 

POINT  PLEASANT,  May  27,  1841. 
DEAR  PRIM: — 

Though  quite  late  to  begin  to  write  this  evening,  with  the  ex- 
pectation of  being  sleepy  very  soon,  I  am,  nevertheless,  once  again 
in  my  old  seat,  at  the  old  stand,  writing  my  first  letter  of  the  sum- 
mer of  1841.  Right  glad  am  I  that  it  is  honored  with  the  dedica- 
tion of  sister  M.  May  it  be  ominous  of  good.  Surely,  dear  Prim, 
you  will  think  I  need  all  the  good  omens  touching  this  matter. 
Remember  last  summer.  But  never  fear;  I  rather  think,  unless 


HOUSE-CLEANING.  41 

you  object,  the  dedication  of  this  will  answer  for  all  the  year's 
epistles.     But  the  future  is  unread. 

Well,  the  little  basket  was  handed  me  by  Henry,  last  evening, 
saying,  "Mrs.  Welch  desired  him  to  bring  it  out."  I  had  for- 
gotten all  about  the  ruffles,  and  was  sure  Prim  had  come,  and  made 
quite  a  fuss,  with  the  basket  in  my  hand,  running  about  to  inform 
father  and  all  interested.  Well,  pass  over  the  disappointment.  It 
has  seemed,  to  me  at  least,  a  most  wondrous  long  time  since  you 
all  went  away.  We  seem  to  have  had  quite  a  summer.  I  can 
only  say  'tis  now  mowing-time,  the  clover  being  cut  daily  on  the 
lawn  ;  can't  say  we  have  thought  as  much  about  you  as  you  might 
suppose,  for  we  have  not  had  time.  The  day  you  left  (only  last 
Friday),  I  really  had  the  headache,  and  thought  I  felt  quite  as 
badly  as  other  people  do  when  they  have  been  doing  almost  every- 
thing in  one  day,  and  slept  but  little  during  the  night.  Mary  was 
sick,  and  went  to  bed. 

I  "poked"  about  awhile,  and  then  thought  I  would  try  and 
see  if  a  little  could  not  be  done  towards  house-cleaning,  and  took 
in  hand  the  washing  of  the  Richard-room  windows.  About  9 
o'clock  Mary  joined  me,  declaring  she  was  well ;  and  in  process 
of  time  A.  and  E.  entered  upon  duty,  and  things  began  to  go  on 
swimmingly.  It  was  quite  funny  to  see  what  order  was  preserved, 
almost  an  unbroken  silence  reigned,  disturbed  only  by  the  pouring 
of  water,  wringing  of  cloths,  rubbing  of  brushes,  etc.  This  was 
the  more  worthy  of  notice,  as  the  contribution  on  the  part  of  each 
individual  was  a  free-will  offering  to  house-cleaning,  no  one  saying 
to  the  other,  "such  and  such  things  will  we  do,"  or  "shall  be 
done."  We  worked  right  merrily  till  night-fall;  with  returning 
health,  I  suppose,  came  returning  spirits.  From  Mrs.  Richards' 
room  we  passed  to  the  entry ;  from  thence,  eastward,  down  the 
four  steps,  by  way  of  the  closets  (not  at  all  to  be  forgotten),  through 
the  wide  entry  passing  my  room ;  then,  turning  to  the  north,  en- 
tered mother's  apartment,  and  after  a  thorough  amendment  and 
improvement,  commenced  Anne's,  taking  up  the  white-washing 
branch,  Jeanette  officiating ;  the  long  entry  then  followed,  and  the 
whole  matter  came  to  an  end  with  the  southeastern  extremity  of 
John's  room,  at  a  little  before  7  o'clock  P.  M.  What  think  you? 

I  have  been  thus  minute,  dear  Prim,  as  the  history  of  one  day 
will  tell  for  all  the  others  since  you  left.  We  have  been  very 


42  POWER   OF   ASSOCIATION. 

busy.  On  Monday  I  hired  a  washerwoman,  and  took  Mary  to 
assist  with  the  parlors,  and  finished  all  that  part  of  the  house,  in- 
cluding the  porticos,  with  the  Robber  room,  that  day,  the  washer- 
woman helping  towards  the  end.  Tuesday  morning  ironed  and 
tied  up  flowers  and  vines.  At  the  dinner-table  father  announced 
that  he  was  going  to  Mt.  Holly,  and  would  take  any  of  us.  Jeanette 
went,  taking  Mary  Ann.  Stayed  to  tea — a  "most  nice"  visit,  quite 
dusty  enough  going,  but  a  dear  little  shower  before  return.  Home 
10  o'clock — a  little  sleepy  last  mile  or  two. 

I  can't  tell  any  more  now,  Dear  Prim.  .  .  .  My  epistle  is  like 
the  "Brief  Reply"  as  to  length,  but  unlike  that  production  its  merit 
must  consist  in  its  truth,  You  will  surely  consider  it  an  unexpected 
and  unmerited  favor — that  is,  if  you  can  read  it.  ...  My 
letter  might  have  been  a  very  serious  one,  and  altogether  different 
in  its  character;  but  it  is  the  passing  hour  with  JEANETTE. 


TO  MARTHA  HULME. 

POINT  PLEASANT,  Monday  Eve,  March  7,  1842. 
DEAREST  PRIM  : — 

.  .  .  Tell  sister  she  will  not  believe  how  often- one  has  said 
to  another,  "brother  and  sister  are  coming  up  to  stay,  on  the  ist  of 
April."  Are  there  any  rosebushes  (roots,  large)  in  market  yet? 
With  every  returning  spring,  every  changing  circumstance,  my  en- 
joyment in  these  things  remains  the  same,  or  is,  perhaps,  greater. 
If  Anne  would  like  to  get  one  for  the  Point,  let  it  be  a  climber. 
The  power  of  association !  what  seems  to  stay  its  current,  or  rather 
causes  it  to  flow  with  such  unmingled  sweetness?  We  cannot  tell 
in  word,  dearest  sister.  It  is  a  joy  with  which  even  a  kindred  heart 
"intermeddleth  not;"  the  constant,  abiding,  feeling  assurance 
that 

"  There  everlasting  spring  abides, 
And  never-withering  flowers, 

Where  saints  immortal  reign." 

Is  it,  beloved  sister,  that  we  have  not  yet  learned  the  deceitful- 
ness  of  our  hearts,  and  know  not  "what  manner  of  spirit  we  are 


CONSECRATION.  43 

of,"  that  makes  one  feel  that  you  and  I  do  not  need  to  "climb 
where  Moses  stood,  and  view  the  landscape  o'er,"  to  make  us  feel 
that  there  are  joys  "  eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard ;"  and,  look- 
ing upon  Him  as  the  "author  and  finisher,"  who  declares,  "Be- 
hold, I  come  quickly,"  causes  us  to  long,  at  least,  to  respond, 
"Even  so,  come,  Lord  Jesus!" 

These  feelings  cannot  be  repressed.  If  I  know  my  own  heart, 
here  they  are,  oh,  are  they  not  unto  "the  praise  and  glory  of  His 
grace?"  Is  not  this  a  golden  period?  Is  not  He  passing  by? 
The  Lord,  the  Lord  merciful  and  gracious.  Will  not  the  bright- 
ness of  the  season  gild  many  a  future  hour  of  darkness  and  de- 
spondency? Shall  not  the  remembrance  be  as  "songs  in  the 
night?"  "streams  in  the  desert?"  Yes,  dearest  sister,  we  will  re- 
member this,  through  all  the  way  in  which  the  Lord  our  God  shall 
lead  us ;  when  He  shall  prove  us  and  try  us  as  silver  is  tried,  that 
we  may  receive  the  crown  of  life,  and  be  "  presented  faultless  be- 
fore the  presence  of  His  glory  with  exceeding  joy."  I  feel  that  I 
have  much  yet  to  learn  of  the  one  great  lesson,  the  nothingness  of 
self,  the  all-sufficiency  of  Him.  Yes,  much,  much,  before  I  shall 
see  Him  as  He  is,  and  be  "satisfied  with  His  likeness."  May  the 
comfort  in  the  views  of  truth  which  we  have  received  ever  be 
ours ! 

Your  own  sister 

JEANETTE. 

In  the  following  we  see  how  truly  she  felt  the  need  and  the 
worth  of  consecrating  to  God  that  exuberant  flow  of  spirits  which 
enlivened  all  her  conduct,  rendering  her  the  delight  of  her  friends 
by  both  pen  and  presence. 

TO  MARTHA  HULME. 

Tuesday  morn,  just  before  father  leaves.   . 

"Just  before  father  leaves  !"  Of  course  you  say  Jeanette  always 
writes  in  a  hurry,  and  that  is  the  reason  why  her  letters  look  and 
are  what  they  are.  How  could  I  help  doing  so,  when  father  has 
just  told  us  at  the  breakfast  table  that  he  goes?  Now,  dear  Matt, 
I  am  not  only  ashamed,  but  grieved,  on  account  of  the  folly  and 
volatility  these  said  letters  manifest.  Shall  I  never  be  serious? 


44  MERCIFULLY  ORDERED. 

Why  cannot  I  write  at  least  in  the  same  spirit  as  Martha?  Not  like, 
but  as  she  writes?  I  was  "very  high"  all  last  week,  though  with- 
out any  apparent  cause — had  nothing  to  worry  me,  and  felt  con- 
tented and  happy;  and  such  was  the  way  this  happiness  was  mani- 
fested, both  in  conversation  and  writing  !  If  my  happiness  springs 
from  a  pure  source,  would  not  it  be  shown  by  "a  meek  and  quiet 
spirit?"  This  is  my  "besetting  sin."  I  ask  not  to  be  other  than 
I  am  as  to  natural  disposition  and  faculties  given  by  Him  who  be- 
stoweth  gifts  according  to  His  own  will,  but  I  ask  that  all  may  be 
directed,  regulated,  and  controlled  by  deep,  abiding  religious 
principle.  Where,  well  may  you  ask,  is  the  progress  towards  this 
end?  If  our  trust  was  not  in  "the  tender  mercies,"  where  would 
be  our  hope? 

TO  HER  SISTER  MARTHA. 
DEAR  MATT  : — 

.  .  .  Do  stay  (though  we  miss  you  sadly)  as  long  as  you 
can  enjoy  yourself.  I  fully  accord  with  you  in  your  estimate  of 
true  wisdom  in  our  use  of  the  present.  It  certainly  is  your  part. 
Your  having  at  last  learned  this  truth  I  hope  proves  that  its  sister 
truth  is  also  embraced.  Let  the  morrow  care  for  the  things  of 
itself;  "sufficient  to  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof;"  "take  no  thought 
for  the  morrow."  If  you  were  a  friend  instead  of  sister,  I  might 
say  your  last  letter,  from  some  cause,  awoke  a  cord  of  sympathy 
between  us  before  untouched.  To  one  who  has  been  led  to  find 
her  peculiar  joy  in  the  Christian  walk  from  the  view  of  her  cove- 
nant God  in  his  "parental  character,"  and  ruler  of  "particular 
providences,"  your  words  could  not  fail  to  be  understood.  You 
know  there  are  many,  and  have  been  many,  sorrows  and  joys  of 
your  heart  with  which  I  cannot  intermeddle.  We  may  sympathize 
yet  not  share.  It  seems  to  me  that  this  is  the  first  emotion  of  the 
heart  that  has  beat  so  close  to  mine  from  childhood,  in  which  I 
shared. 

You  see,  dear  Prim,  what  magic  power  your  one  little  sentence 
about  the  Divine  condescension  has  wrought.  "Mercifully  or- 
dered"— never  forget  this,  and  the  stream  of  quiet  happiness  shall 
flow  with  you  to  life's  end.  Each  little  event,  joy  or  sorrow,  as 
well  as  the  whole  train,  ordered,  disposed,  and  suited  to  each  "son 
and  daughter"  as  they  are  brought  home  to  glory!  Oh,  the  riches 
of  the  wisdom  and  mercy  of  our  covenant  God ! 


JACOB'S  vow.  45 

MY  BIRTHDAY. 

"  Daily  Food,"  Job  v.  19. 

February  25,  1843. 

"And  behold  I  am  with  thee,  and  will  keep  thee  in  all  places 
whither  thou  goest,  and  will  bring  thee  again  into  this  land ;  for  I 
will  not  leave  thee,  until  I  have  done  that  which  I  have  spoken  to 
thee  of. 

.  .  .  .  "And  Jacob  vowed  a  vow,  saying,  If  God  will  be 
with  me,  and  will  keep  me  in  this  way  that  I  go,  and  will  give  me 
bread  to  eat,  and  raiment  to  put  on, 

"  So  that  I  come  again  to  my  father's  home  in  peace;  then  shall 
the  Lord  be  my  God:  ....  and  of  all  that  thou  shalt  give 
me,  I  will  surely  give  the  tenth  unto  thee."  Gen.  xxviii.  15, 
20-22. 

My  daily  reading,  my  birthday  portion !  I  know  not  that  I  have 
anything  to  record  this  day.  Quietness  seems  to  rest  upon  my 
heart.  The  return  of  this  season  comes  not  as  it  was  wont  to  do, 
reviving  hopes  and  fears,  youth's  doubts  and  anxieties  for  the  un- 
tried future,  which  made  me  feel  the  preciousness  of  that  Arm  on 
which  I  might  rest  as  a  refuge,  that  Wisdom  infinite  in  which  I 
might  trust,  "casting  all  my  care  upon  Him  who  careth  for  me;" 
and  rejoicing  in  that  I  could  (by  grace)  say,  "  My  times  are  in  thy 
hand."  But  is  it  not  my  birthday  still?  And  as  my  years  pass 
away,  is  it  not  more  and  more  a  Bethel,  on  which  I  see  inscribed 
what  "the  Lord  has  done  for  me?" 

So  far  as  this  life  is  concerned,  I  seem  to  have  not  one  desire. 
My  birthday — with  all  my  other  days — is  before  Thee.  Oh,  that 
"the  life  which  I  now  live  in  the  flesh  I  might  live  by  the  faith  of 
the  Son  of  God,  who  loved  me,  and  gave  himself  for  me."  May 
Jacob's  God  be  my  God  I  May  my  portion  in  this  life  be  as  years 
"few  and  evil,"  so  that  at  last  I  may  but  come  to  be  a  partaker  of 
His  inheritance,  with  "Abraham  and  Isaac,  in  the  kingdom  of  our 
Father." 

I  come  to  Thee,  O  my  Father,  through  that  open  door  of  access 
which  Jacob's  vision  showed  forth — Jesus  Christ.  In  Him  I  may 
hear  Thy  voice  and  live ;  yea,  find  Thee  my  Covenant  God.  In 
Him  I  come  before  Thee,  "justified  from  all  things;"  in  Him  as 


46  BIRTH-DAY   ANNIVERSARY. 

my  surety  I  enter  into  covenant  with  Thee.  Oh,  let  Thy  words, 
spoken  to  Jacob,  be  also  to  me  !  "  And,  behold,  I  am  with  thee, 
and  .will  keep  thee  in  all  places  whither  thou  goest,  and  will  bring 
thee  again  into  this  land ;  for  I  will  not  leave  thee  until  I  have 
done  that  which  I  have  spoken  to  thee  of."  I  would  receive  it  as 
Thy  promise  to  me  in  Jesus.  It  is  enough.  Every  desire  of  spirit 
and  body  is  satisfied  in  this.  My  soul,  my  body,  I  commit  anew 
to  Thy  hands;  and,  with  Jacob,  vow  my  vow.  "If  God  will  be 
with  me,  and  will  keep  me  in  this  way  that  I  go,  and  will  give  me 
bread  to  eat,  and  raiment  to  put  on,  so  that  I  come  to  my  Father's 
house  [heavenly  Father,  John  xiv.  2]  in  peace:  then  shall  the  Lord 
be  my  God  ;"  and  this,  my  birthday,  shall  be  as  a  Bethel,  a  "stone, 
which  I  have  set  for  a  pillar;"  "and  of  all  that  Thou  shalt  give 
me,  I  will  surely  give  the  tenth  unto  Thee." 

This  promise  is  made  only  in  the  strength  of  my  Lord  God, 
making  mention  of  His  righteousness,  His  only.  In  Him  every 
care  shall  be  satisfied,  every  want  supplied,  and  I  shall  be  with 
"full  salvation  blest;"  "kept  by  the  power  of  God  through  faith 
unto  salvation,"  i  Peter  i.  5. 

My  Father  in  heaven,  I  ask  no  more  on  this  my  birthday,  but 
that  Thou  wilt,  indeed,  "be  with  me,  and  keep  me  in  all  places 
whither  I  go,"  until  my  feet  enter  into  the  New  Jerusalem.  "Be- 
cause Thou  hast  been  my  helper,  therefore,  under  the  shadow  of 
thy  wings  will  I  rejoice;"  "goodness  and  mercy  have  followed 
me  all  the  days  of  my  life;"  "in  the  multitude  of  the  sorrows  I 
have  had  in  my  heart,  thy  comforts  have  refreshed  my  soul."  I 
have  never  tasted  of  the  cup  of  sorrow  but  it  has  been  to  my  lips  as 
drops  from  the  "fountain  of  life,"  the  oil  of  joy  for  mourning,  the 
garment  of  praise  for  the  spirit  of  heaviness. 

Oh,  what  can  I  say!  What  can  I  render  for  creation,  preserva- 
tion, and  all  the  blessings  of  this  life;  but,  above  all,  for  Thy  in- 
estimable love  in  redemption,  by  Jesus  Christ! 

"  Angels,  and  living  saints,  and  dead 

But  one  communion  make : 
All  join  in  Christ,  their  living  Head, 

And  of  His  love  partake. 
All  glory  be  to  Thee,  Q  Lord  most  high !" 

Ever  may  I  be  Thine,  O  my  Saviour,  and  one  with  him  who  sleeps 
in  Jesus! 

JEANETTE  HULME. 


JUSTIFICATION.  47 


FROM  A  LETTER  TO  HER  SISTER. 

This  review  of  her  Christian  experience  shows  how  clearly  the 
doctrine  of  justification  by  faith  was  revealed  to  her. 

July  9,  1843. 
DEAR  SISTER:  — 

The  sacred  bond  that  makes  us  all  one  in  Christ  Jesus,  is,  I  be- 
lieve, pure,  deep,  and  abiding.  It  rests  upon  a, foundation  above 
all  change.  None  can  boast  of  higher,  purer  love.  It  is  sufficient 
for  our  hearts  to  know,  "  Now  we  are  the  sons  of  God,  and  it  doth 
not  yet  appear  what  we  shall  be;  but  we  know  that  when  He  shall 
appear,  we  shall  be  like  Him."  Compared  with  this,  every  other 
thought  and  feeling  is  as  nothing. 

It  is  now  eight  years  since,  by  the  waters  of  baptism,  I  was  united 
to  the  visible  Church  of  Christ,  and  my  name  registered  in  St. 

Mary's  Church,  Burlington I  look  back  to  it  as  a 

day  of  days — partaker  in  a  transaction  which  men  and  angels  wit- 
nessed. Henceforth  a  member  of  Christ's  Church  militant,  I  was, 
I  trust,  taken  and  sheltered  and  fed,  and  my  feet  guided  thus  far. 
Exceedingly  ignorant  of  many  things,  and  but  imperfectly  ac- 
quainted with  any  of  the  foundation  doctrines  of  the  Christian's 
joy  and  hope,  I  only  knew  that  I  desired  to  do  that  which  was 
right. 

Four  years  passed  with  alternate  seasons  of  light  and  darkness, 
hope  and  fear,  when  the  Holy  Spirit  bade  me  answer:  "  What  is 
the  foundation  of  your  hope?  Are  you  in  Christ  Jesus?"  Three 
months  (in  1839)  that  I  cannot  even  now  dwell  upon — known  only 
to  Him  who,  "  when  our  spirit  is  overwhelmed  within  us,  knoweth 
our  path" — found  me  at  their  close  rejoicing  in  the  triumphant 
answer:  "He  that  believeth  is  justified  from  all  things!"  and, 
"Whom  he  justifies,  them  will  he  also  glorify."  "  There  is,  there- 
fore, now  no  condemnation  to  them  which  are  in  Jesus  Christ," 
"heirs  of  God,  and  joint  heirs  with  Christ,"  they  can  "never 
perish,  neither  shall  any  man  pluck  them  out  of  His  hand." 

The  doctrine  of  justification  by  faith  was  then,  through  no  human 
instrumentality,  perceived  and  received  in  all  its  richness  of  com- 
fort and  joy.  It  is  the  foundation  of  the  believer's  rest  in  his 


48  DR.    BETHUNE   PREACHES. 

Saviour,  the  entrance  into  the  glorious  liberty  of  the  children  of 
God.  This  was  the  Gospel  which  I  then  received,  in  which  I  have 
rejoiced  without  one  faltering  moment  ever  since.  No  darkness, 
no  sorrow,  no  sinfulness  and  wretchedness  of  self  can  turn  the 
believer's  eye  from  the  joy  that  flows  from  Him  who  "  abideth 
faithful."*  .... 

That  the  Lord  God  of  Israel  may  ever  keep  us  all,  is  the 
prayer  of 

JEANETTE. 

She  goes  to  Harrisburgh  and  Lewisburg,  Pa.,  to  visit  relatives, 
and  from  there  writes  the  following  letters  to  her  sister  Martha:  — 

HARRISBURGH,  PA.,  May  30,  1844. 
DEAREST  SISTER  : — 

I  well  know  you  will  be  grateful  to  hear  from  us,  even  if  it  is 
only  a  few  lines.  Such  a  gloomy  beginning  has  ended  in  a  bright 
and  pleasant  day  (how  like  life!).  Mary  has  not  even  complained 
of  fatigue,  though  the  latter  part  of  the  way  was  rough.  But  such 
a  ride!  such  views  bursting  upon  us  of  the  unsurpassed  valley  of 
the  Susquehanna! — such  hills  and  mountain  tops;  such  bright 
green  fields  and  dotted  corn  crops;  such  mingled  rocks  and 
peaceful  streams;  and — and — more  than  the  heart  can  feel  or 

words  can  tell.     I  enjoyed  it  all  intensely We  had 

our  dinner  soon  after  we  arrived,  and  then  I  read  a  little,  and  had 
the  snuggest  nap,  cut  out  my  cape,  and  prepared  to  sew — perfectly 
at  home.  The  house  is  full,  a  "Sunday  Convention"  being  held. 

Mr.  Chester,  from  B ,  here,  etc.  etc.     Dr.  Bethune  preached 

this  evening.     I  made  Mr.  G take  me.     Oh,  what  a  sermon ! 

What  can  we  call  these  showers  by  the  wayside,  these  unexpected 
blessings?  "Not  slothful  in  business;  fervent  in  spirit;  serving 
the  Lord."  The  cares  and  duties  of  life  not  hindrances  but  helps, 
a  preparation  (to  the  child  of  God)  for  rest  in  the  heavenly  seats 
above.  I  have  not  time  to  speak  of  it.  I  rejoice  in  all  those 
things,  in  every  view  and  aspect  of  which  he  spoke  last  night. 
Why  do  we  ever  distrust  our  Father's  wisdom? 

.  .  .  .  To  say  that  I  have  wished  for  you  through  all  the 
pleasant  day,  cannot  tell  how  I  longed  to  see  through  your  eyes, 
or  rather  by  them.  But  if  this  communion  of  spirit  among  the 


RIDE    ON    CANAL   PACKET.  49 

beauties  of  this  perishable  world  is  better  not  for  us,  shall  we  not 
together  wonder  and  adore  in  that  "better  country,"  at  His  right 
hand,  where  there  is  "fulness  of  joy  and  pleasures  for  evermore?" 
What  a  proof  of  immortality  is  the  yearning,  undying  sense  of  the 
beautiful  and  glorious!  I  have  most  wondered,  and  most  enjoyed, 
that  I  could  yet  feel  all  this  even  more  than  ever. 

But  this  will  not  do;  you  would  rather  I  would  say  good-night. 

TO  MARTHA  HULME. 

LEWISBURG,  PA.,  Monday  morning,  June  3,  1844. 
DEAREST  SISTER:  — 

.  .  .  .  The  canal  boat!  Did  any  of  you  ever  go  in  a  canal 
boat?  A  home  and  not  a  home,  a  house  and  not  a  house.  Eating, 
sleeping,  drinking,  everything,  all  in  an  inch  of  room,  seemingly. 
Tiny  windows  with  tasselled  red  curtains,  etc.,  "play-pretense" 
like.  I  declare  I  did  not  feel  myself  at  home  enough  to  take  my 
bonnet  off,  though  a  girl  did  sit  sewing  in  the  corner,  as  if  she  had 
lived  there  a  year.  I  was  too  much  amused  to  laugh.  Such  a 
baby-house  affair  I  never  saw.  And  yet  it  was  a  regular,  well-built, 
handsomely  furnished  packet.  But  the  scenery!  On  the  deck  I 
went,  and  on  the  deck  I  would  stay,  save  time  to  enjoy  the  best  supper 
since  I  left  home.  It  was  almost  sunset  when  we  started.  It  was  not 
a  canal,  it  was  a  beautiful  stream  of  deep  water,  along  which  we 
glided  so  softly  and  quietly  that  the  song  of  every  bird  and  the 
rustling  of  every  leaf  were  distinctly  heard.  I  sat  in  the  bow  of  the 
boat,  and,  of  course,  forgot  that  there  were  freight,  passengers,  ar 
anything  else  behind  me.  To  talk  was  impossible.  You  know 
how  even  common  objects  appear  in  the  soft  light  of  sunset.  The 
farm  yards,  with  the  chickens  getting  ready  to  sleep;  cows  return- 
ing from  the  green  fields,  across  the  pretty  bridges  that  here  and 
there  were  above  our  heads;  barns,  houses,  rose  bushes  and  trees, 
woods  and  openings;  villages  and  towns  in  the  distance;  and  above 
all,  and  behind  all,  the  glorious  mountain  heights !  And  then, 
the  noble  river,  with  its  little  green  islands  and  jutting  rocks,  was 
all  the  time  just  at  our  side;  the  wash  of  every  wave  that  turned 
aside  from  rocky  peaks  was  easily  heard.  Would  that  I  could  tell 
you,  that  you  could  feel  with  me  all  that  I  felt !  Think  I  could 
not,  but  every  now  and  then  I  said,  "If  Matt  were  only  here!" 
4 


50  CLOSE   QUARTERS. 

Soon  the  farm-yards  all  disappeared,  and  the  wild  mountain 
scenery  took  their  place.  But  this  will  not  do.  Do  not  talk  to  me 
of  the  North  River,  Boston,  or  any  other  place.  Here  were  not, 
here  and  there,  the  grand  and  beautiful,  but  all,  all  was  beauty  and 
loveliness  in  its  highest  sense,  though  ever-changing  and  various. 
So  slowly,  too,  we  passed  along,  every  object  fully  enjoyed.  Three 
sunsets  and  two  sunrises  we  had  that  evening  behind  the  hills.  At 
last  the  sun  was  gone,  and  the  moon  with  her  one  bright  star,  as 
they  never  were  before,  came  up  from  behind  the  opposite  hills. 
At  one  time  we  were  in  midnight  darkness,  at  the  base  of  frowning 
rocks,  while  the  outline  of  some  noble  hill  was  pictured  for  us  in 

the  sparkling  river  by  our  side.     I  cannot  tell  you At 

last  we  were  advised  to  go  to  bed,  and  after  such  a  hint  I  concluded 
to  retire.  To  bed  did  I  say? — to  shelving  I  call  it.  Such  a  time  ! 
Two  ladies,  sisters,  under  the  care  of  Rev.  Mr.ratton,  of  North- 
umberland, shared  our  end  of  the  room.  The  gentlemen  had  an- 
nounced to  us  that  the  captain  had  promoted  them  to  more  than 
half  the  ladies'  drawing  room  (all  was  an  inch,  as  1  told  you). 
Sure  enough,  inside  the  door  were  four  shelves,  and  beyond  a  so- 
called  curtain,  flimsy-flamsy  blue  worsted,  stuck  up  with  forks! — 
separating  the  end  of  our  shelves  from  the  gentlemen's  heads, 
making  a  turning-round  place  called  a  room.  Two  of  the  shelves 
were  just  beyond  suffocating  distance  from  the  ceiling;  the  other 
two  on  the  cushioned  seats  below.  Of  course  ladies  and  gentlemen 
were  taking  off  boots  and  shoes  at  the  same  time.  I  helped  the 
big  strange  lady  to  her  upper  shelf,  fixed  Mary  below  mine,  and 
then  stood  upon  a  stool  to  aim  at  mine.  But  it  would  not  do  at 
all ;  and  we  all  burst  out  in  an  unsuppressed  fit  of  laughter,  in 
which,  of  course,  the  gentlemen  tried  not  to  join.  A  large  woman 
from«the  chambermaid's  room  was  summoned,  who  lifted  me  up. 
But  I  had  left  the  shutter  open  to  have  a  little  moonlight  in  our 
end,  and  the  ladies  said  I  must  not  sleep  with  my  head  that  way, 
or  I  should  be  made  sick;  and  so  I  prepared  to  turn  round.  The 
strangers  opposite  insisted  it  could  not  be  done;  but  at  last  it  was 
accomplished,  and  my  head  was  turned  just  not  to  touch  the  gen- 
tleman (because  of  the  curtain),  when  down  went  one  corner  of 
the  shelf  over  poor  Mary!  crash  went  the  little  window!  and 
through  the  blue  curtain  I  seemed  determined  to  go.  Then  came 
peals  of  laughter  from  the  piles  of  gentlemen  beyond  (the  room  was 


BLUE    HILL,    NORTHUMBERLAND.  .  51 

crowded,  three  rows  on  either  side).  But  no  harm  was  done. 
Mary  called  the  maid  again,  who,  half  asleep,  came  loudly  scold- 
ing that  if  the  lady  "  had  only  been  aisy  and  not  kept  frisking  so," 
it  would  not  have  happened.  But  when  she  found  I  had  to  be  lifted 
from  the  corner  in  which  I  had  taken  refuge,  she  laughed  outright, 
and  set  me  down  in  a  great  hurry.  I  slept  on  the  floor,  and  will 
tell  the  rest  another  time. 


TO  MARTHA  HULME. 

LEWISBURG  [PA.],  June  27,  1844. 
DEAREST  SISTER  : — 

.  .  .  The  shower  seems  going  up  the  river,  and  I  find  a 
few  moments  before  dark.  If  you  only  could  see  our  beautiful  showers 
hanging  along  the  hill-tops,  or  spreading  in  the  distance  like  a  veil 
of  mist  along  the  noble  river,  marking  its  outlines  for  miles  !  I 
still  enjoy  the  country  so  very,  very  much.  On  Tuesday  morning 
James  and  Mary,  Mr.  Graham,  and  Jeanette  left  for  a  day's  ride  in 
the  country,  particularly  to  visit  the  Blue  Hill,  at  Northumberland. 
I  would  simply  remark  that  on  all  such  occasions  I  lose  my  per- 
sonal identity.  Can  you  see  your  primpy  (true)  old  maidy  sister 
seated  in  an  elevated  four-wheeled  buggy,  without  a  top,  one  seat,, 
drawn  by  two  spirited  grays,  and  the  driver  and  companion,  the 
rosy-faced,  curly-headed,  admired,  and  respected  George  Wash- 
ington Graham! — is  that  your  sister  Jeanette?  I  say,  no. 

If  I  could  but  give  you  a  miniature  picture  of  the  extended  and 
truly  beautiful  view  that  the  Hill  presents  from  its  top,  where  a 
summer-house  has  been  erected  at  the  expense  of  an  old  man,*who' 
lives,  Jimmy  Wells-like,  hard  by!  But  I  cannot.  Mr.  G.  told 
me  the  old  man  was  a  "woman-hater."  But  would  you  believe 
it  ?  after  admitting  us  to  a  dirty,  musty,  old  garret,  and  unlocking 
his  great  boxes  of  books,  containing  a  most  valuable  library  of 
histories,  etc.  etc.,  as  we  were  turning  away  he  said,  "  The  book 
you  have  in  your  hand  I  wish  you  to  keep,"  addressing  me.  I  was 

*  This  old  man  and  "Blue  Hill"  added  to  the  celebrity  of  Northumberland, 
where  the  distii.guished  Dr.  Priestley  lived  and  is  buried. 

Blue  Hill  stands  out  in  bold  grandeur  where  the  northern  and  western  branches 
of  the  Susquehanna— two  noble  rivers — unite  and  flow  into  the  Chesapeake  Bay. 


52  .  A    LITERARY    HERMIT. 

amazed  ;  but,  of  course,  exceedingly  gratified.  It  is  a  volume  of 
bound  "  Magazines  of  European  Literature  ;  or  a  collection  of 
select  and  interesting  pieces,  either  original  or  versions  from  the 
Italian,  German,  and  Spanish,  Paris,  1802."  I  asked  him  to  insert 
my  name  and  date.  He  took  up  from  a  dirty  old  kind  of  a  desk 
a  pen,  and,  inquiring  the  name,  wrote  under  his  own  beautifully 
written  name — "J.  Mason,  1804" — the  following,  "Jane  Eppy  /" 
What  Mr.  Graham  and  I  did  with  our  faces,  who  were  looking  over 
his  shoulder,  .1  cannot  tell.  My  name  was  then  written  on  a  piece 
of  paper  and  placed  before  him,  and  he  neatly  wrote,  "  Jeanette 
Hulme,  June  25,  '44."  But  what  think  you?  is  there  not  a  secret 
sympathy  between  two  old  folks  when  thrown  together?  It  seemed 

so  to  me 

Saturday  morning. — Beloved  sister,  the  package  has  just  come. 
Have  waited  all  this  time  to  hear  from  you — so  long  !  But  what 
shall  I  say?  How  deeply  I  am  distressed  !  Oh,  I  can  never  leave 
you  and  home  again  while  I  have  a  father's  house  on  earth  !  I 
cannot  do  without  you,  and  this  must  be  our  last  separation.  I  have 
suffered  so  much  from  excitement  since  here.  Do  not  distress 
yourself  as  to  the  cause,  which  is  altogether  inward.  It  is  not,  as 
in  your  case,  my  heart  or  faith  that  fails,  but  the  whole  nervous 
system.  I  become  so  mentally  wretched  while  morally  peaceful 
and  happy.  You  know — you  have  seen  me  in  times  past.  If  I  am 
a  heart  to  you  in  your  moments  of  weakness,  you  are  a  hero  to  me, 
my  strength,  my  wisdom,  my  unerring  guide.  Oh,  how  I  have 
missed  you  and  longed  for  you  !  And  yet,  the  necessities  <$f  this 
heart,  its  weakness  and  longings,  no  human  eye,  not  even  the 
nearest  my  heart,  can  ever  read.  Bitter  moments  have  passed  in  this 
place  and  all  along  my  journey  here.  Brightness  and  darkness, 
how,  as  ever,  contrasted  !  The  sunny  side  has  always  been  turned 
to  you  in  my  letters,  the  other  waits  till  I  see  you. 

TO  HER  COUSIN,  E.  G.  H.,  in  Philadelphia. 

POINT  PLEASANT  [N.  J.],  Dec.  26,  1844. 
MY  DEAR  NEDDY: — 

It  is  too  late  to  wish  you  a  "happy  Christmas,"  but  not  too  late 

to  say  that  you  have  been  much  in  my  mind  of  late 

Do  you  go  to  any  Bible  class?     Where?     Who  is  the  teacher? 


BROOKFIELD.  53 

Will  you  not  try  and  hear  Dr.  Tyng  as  often  as  you  can'?  Are 
there  any  evenings  in  the  week  at  your  disposal?  Could  you  ever 
get  to  his  Wednesday  evening  lectures  or  Friday  night  prayer- 
meetings  ?  Do  you  find  any  time  to  read  ?  Is  there  any  library 
to  which  you  can  have  access?  Tell  me  all  about  yourself,  what 
doing,  thinking,  feeling 

Only  live  near  to  Him  and  you  can  never  fall.  It  may  be  that 
you  will  soon  learn  more  and  more  of  the  weakness  and  vileness  of 
your  heart.  Oh,  let  not  this  keep  you  away  from  Jesus  ("Saviour!") 
It  should  only  drive  you  the  closer  to  His  cross.  And  when 
tempted  by  the  enemy  to  despond,  and  feel  "  I  cannot  be  His 
child — how  can  I  go  to  Him  feeling  thus?"  Oh,  turn  from  the 
tempter  and  answer  every  doubt,  yes,  every  sense  of  sin  and  guilt 
with  this  one  blessed  truth  :  "Jesus  hath  died  !"  Ten  thousand 
are  now  around  the  throne  who  have  only  obtained  the  victory  in 
this  way.  They  have  all  come  out  of  "much  tribulation,"  have 
"washed  their  robes  and  made  them  white  in  the  blood  of  the 
Lamb." 

With  much  affection  I  am,  dear  Neddy,  as  ever,  sister 

JEANETTE.    . 

Brookfield  was  the  name  given  to  a  large  estate,  beautifully  situ- 
ated in  Montgomery  County,  Pa.,  twelve  miles  from  Philadelphia, 
purchased  by  Mr.  Hulme,  and  where  the  family  removed  in  April, 
1845 — with  bright  anticipations  of  a  happy  life  and  an  increase  of 
fortune,  but  where  they  met  the  deepest  sorrow  of  their  lives  in  the 
death  of  both  father  and  mother.  The  mother  died  April,  1845  > 
the  father  the  July  following.  It  was  here  that  these  letters  were 
written  to  Mrs.  H.  W.  B.,  of  Trenton.  The  correspondence  was 
voluminous,  but  only  a  few  extracts  are  given. 

It  was  at  this  beautiful  home  that  that  earnest,  talented,  and  much 
lamented  young  clergyman,  Rev.  Dudley  A.  Tyng,  met  his  death 
in  after  years  by  a  painful  accident.  He  was  a  frequent  visitor  of 
the  Hulme  family  and  a  dear  friend  of  Mrs.  Platt.  After  he  came 
to  Ohio  she  was  much  interested  in  his  work,  and  their  occasional 
meetings  here  were  mutually  pleasant. 


54  LETTERS   TO    H.    W.    B. 


TO  H.   W.   B. 

BROOKFIELD,  Aug.  27,  1845. 

.  .  .  .  "Your  visit  was  so  pleasant.  We  often  say  our  Trenton 
friends  were  with  us  in  the  one  only  bright  week  of  this  summer. 
A  week  between  the  dark  and  sorrowful  past  and  coming  future. 
Sometimes  I  think  I  don't  want  you  to  come  again — would  have 
your  recollections  of  your  school-friend's  home  only  pleasant. 
You  can  come  and  see  us  now,  but  not  our  home.  Can  we  ever 
have  a  home  again?  This  question  constantly  presses  itself  upon 
my  heart,  dear  H. — you  too  have  lost  your  father,  and  with  him 
your  childhood's  home.  Tell  me  how  you  live  and  what  you  live 
for  now."  ....  "  I  am  sorry  I  have  spoken  as  I  have  in  this 
letter.  The  darkness  of  these  days  I  know  will  pass  away  ;  neither 
would  I  call  my  parents  back.  Long  years  of  tenderness,  though 
marked  with  times  of  heartfelt  sorrow,  bound  our  parents  together, 
and  in  death  they  have  not  been  divided.  Side  by  side  they 
sleep  with  their  most  precious,  gifted  child,  our  absent  brother 
James."  .... 

"  Every  one  knows  I  naturally  possess  no  decision  and  stability 
of  character;  and  I,  this  day,  fear  I  am  as  much  the  creature  of 
impulse  and  circumstances  as  was  the  school-girl  of  fourteeen  years 
ago.  1  live  by  reliance  upon  others.  After  brother  James,  sister 
Martha  made  me  all  I  am;  rather,  all  that  is  seen  right  about  me  is 

the  effect  of  their  influence  or  reflection  of  their  qualities 

She  is,  indeed,  all  you  say,  all  that  woman  can  be 

And  dear  H.  you  will  understand  something  of  my  feelings  when 
I  tell  you  I  am  going  to  lose  her  by  giving  herto  another."  .... 

Again  referring  to  the  change  wrought  by  her  father's  death,  she 
says:  "Oh,  Hannah,  great  has  been  the  change,  powerful  the 
cause  that  has  made  me  feel  I  could  not  live  here  now ;  all  is  as  beau- 
tiful, but  where  is  the  answer  in  our  own  hearts!  No,  we  cannot 
stay  here  without  our  father!"  .... 

"I  am  so  much  pleased  that  you  like  'Anne  Sherwood.'  It  is 
my  pet  of  all  Martha  has  written.  The  temperament,  character 
of  the  little  girl  is,  indeed,  her  own.  Many  of  the  incidents  at  school 
actually  occurred — Clara  Norris's  friendship ;  she  could  tell  you  a 
long  story;  and  then  the  brother  is  our  own  James — his  love  of 


SAD    THOUGHTS.  55 

flowers,  the  hours  spent  with  his  young  sister  in  their  little  garden,  all 
just  as  they  were,  true.  Anna  is  not  Martha  (she  says)  but  another 
sister  (herself).  Is  it  any  wonder  that  she  loved  flowers?  her  old 
'roots,'  some  of  which  she  even  carried  here,  seem  part  of  her- 
self; or  rather  their  tender  stems  and  delicate  growth  speak  of  one 
who  watched  and  trained  them,  while  his  step  grew  more  feeble 
and  his  eye  too  dim  to  see  beauty  in  any  outward  thing  besides. 
In  February,  when  the  snow  had  covered  our  little  garden,  just 
two  weeks  before  we  moved  to  our  beautiful  home  at  Point  Pleasant 
(when  we  almost  hoped  he  would  be  with  us)  he  fell  asleep  in  per- 
fect peace."  .... 

October,  1845. 

"Your  letters  are  so  pleasant  and  warmly  welcomed ;  indeed, 
it  seems  all  a  dream  that  I  have  met  'Hannah  Wilson'  again;  and 
then,  too,  just  at  this  point,  this  most  dark  and  desolate  period  of 
my  life.  There  is  a  meaning  in  this  to  those  whose  all  of  earthly 
happiness  is  gathered  from  the  'little  things'  of  passing  moments. 
They  do  not  draw  from  the  past  nor  borrow  from  the  future. 
'That  which  Thou  givest  them  they  gather."  How,  why,  or  what 
they  live  for  they  hardly  know.  But,  dear  Hannah,  I  did  not 
mean  one  sad  thought  should  come  before  you  in  this  letter.  You 
speak  of  my  visit  to  Trenton — to  be  sure  I  think  of  it  and  hope  to 
go  ;  and  Martha,  too,  for  a  short  time — but  I  cannot  say  I  expect 
to  be  there.  It  will  be  another  dream,  and  somehow  dreams  never 
do  me  good.  With  Ann  Imlay,  you  think  'we  three  might  almost 
fancy  ourselves  school-girls  again.'  I  don't  need  Ann  to  make 
me  quite  do  this;  whenever  we  meet,  mind  and  heart  seem  to  run 
back  again  the  fourteen  years  to  the  warm,  fresh  feelings  of  girlish 
days." 

The  person  addressed  in  these  letters  as  "  Mother,"  was  a  very 
dear  Quaker  cousin,  several  years  older  than  Jeanette,  and  in  whose 
family  she  was  a  frequent  and  welcome  visitor.  The  endearing 
title  of  "mother"  shows  how  fondly  and  lovingly  they  were  at- 
tached. 

She  was  the  mother  of  Edmund  and  Mary  Harrison,  whose  names 
appear  in  some  of  the  letters. 


56  LETTERS    TO    COUSIX    REBECCA. 

TO  MRS.  REBECCA  HARRISON,  after  the  death  of  the  writer's  parents. 

BROOKFIELD,  Sept.  25,  1845. 
DEAR  MOTHER: — 

Now  I  want  thee  here  just  by  me  to  tell  thee  all  I  have  to  say. 
I  will  not  thank  thee  and  dear  cousin  George  for  the  invitation,  or 
rather,  welcome,  thy  letter  contained  ;  nor  attempt  to  say  how 
freely  I  accept  and  truly  appreciate  all  this.  Cousin  Maria,  too, 
insists  part  of  the  winter  shall  be  passed  with  her,  and  says  how 
very  glad  her  mother  will  be  to  have  me  with  them  just  as  long  as 
I  can  stay.  And  two  weeks,  as  soon  as  I  am  at  liberty,  my  Trenton 
friend  claims. 

I  think  we  are  all  much  happier  than  when  I  wrote  last.  The 
heaviest  clouds,  I  trust,  have  passed  away,  and  at  times  something 
of  our  wonted  cheerfulness  returns.  I  believe  we  have  all  decided 
to  leave  as  soon  as  arrangements  will  permit,  after  brother  and  sister 

go  to  the  city Nothing  has  been  settled  definitely, 

.  and  every  plan  may  be  changed.  Can't  thee  come  and  see  us,  dear 
mother?  I  long  to  see  thy  quiet  face  about  us  again.  Is  it  not 
time  for  thee  to  look  after  thy  vegetable-soup  patient?  We  should 
all  be  so  glad  to  see  thee  here.  I  really  feel  sorry  that  I  was  not 
with  you  all  the  time  of  Jeanette's  quilting.  I  quite  long  to  be 
once  more  settled  among  you.  I  may  go  away  often  to  other  places 
during  the  winter,  but  there  will  be  my  home.  It  is  so  pleasant  to 
feel  I  am  not  to  go  so  far  away  from  all  my  friends.  I  want  to  be 
with  Martha,  but  at  present  feel  ncx  inclination  for  a  western  home. 
It  was  very  different  to  talk  about  a  year's  visit  to  Martha,  and  to 
talk  about  a  home  for  life.  I  am  too  old  to  enjoy  the  thought  of 
forming  new  friendships  among  those  who  have  never  even  heard 
of  me.  Sometimes  I  think  I  shall  not  go  at  all.  ,  Oh,  my  heart 
has  been  so  desolate,  so  objectless  !  After  one,  and  another,  and 
another  were  taken  from  me,  my  beloved  father  seemed  the  one 
object  left  for  me  to  live  for.  I  felt  I  was  essential  to  his  happiness 
and  comfort ;  I  knew  he  thought  so.  -  But  now  all  is  gone,  and  no 
one  human  being  needs  my  love  and  service.  It  is  vain  for  dear, 
dear  Martha  to  tell  me  I  am  essential  to  her  happiness,  and  always 
shall  be.  I  know  this  is  not  so ;  in  Mr.  Canfield  she  has  all.  But 
why  talk  thus?  Dark  as  the  future  now  is  before  my  eyes  there  is 


THE   VALUE    OF    FRIENDS.  57 

One  who  can  bring  light  out  of  darkness,  and  cause  our  greatest 
sorrows  and  trials  to  work  together  for  our  highest  good.  I  know 
all  is  safe  in  His  hands.  Oh,  that  I  could  always  feel  this  and  en- 
joy that  sweet  submission  which  flows  from  such  belief!  Pray  for 
me,  dear  mother,  and  when  you  all  kneel  around  the  footstool  of 
His  grace,  remember  your  lonely  orphan  child ;  and  may  the 
prayers  offered  and  the  kindness  shown  be  returned  fourfold  into 
your  own  bosom  1  God  only  can  repay.  To  Him  who  will  soon 
bring  us  all  to  the  possession  of  our  one  glorious,  eternal  inheritance, 
be  all  honor  and  glory  for  all  He  has  done  for  me,  for  all  He  will 
ever  do ! 

With  my  deepest  love  to  each  one,  I  am,  as  ever,  dear  mother, 

thy  own 

JEANETTE. 

TO  MRS.  REBECCA  HARRISON. 

BROOKFIELD,  Oct.  20,  1845. 
DEAR  MOTHER: — 

I  cannot  tell  thee  how  grateful  thy  kind  letter  was  to  this  heart, 
how  often,  again  and  again,  its  affectionate  expressions  have  come 
before  me,  yesterday,  and  to-day.  It  seems,  to  me  I  never  knew 
the  value  of  friends  before,  never  felt  their  love.  If  thee  could 
know  how  the  little  circle  at  Hulmeville  seems  to  me — how  near; 
thee  would  feel  and  know  a  daughter's  love  is  indeed  thine.  I 
don't  know  what  I  should  have  done  through  this  summer,  in  this 
darkest  and  most  desolate  period  of  my  life,  had  I  not  had  thy 
heart,  and  the  Hulmeville  home,  and  beloved  ones  to  turn  to.  I 
knew  that,  till  death  should  call  the  last  of  them  away,  I  should 
never  feel  quite  alone.  Oh,  that  I  could  be  thankful  as  I  ought 
for  all  my  mercies  left !  I  could  have  wept  when  thee  spoke  of 
wishing  "to  feel  that  my  stay  with  Martha  was  to  be  a  visit,  not 
for  life;" — just  as  I  feel.  I  cannot  bear  the  thought  of  separation 
from  thee  and  thine  perhaps  forever  in  this  life.  I  want  to  feel 
that  thee  wants,  yes,  needs  me  back  again,  and  that  I  can  be  much 
to  those  who  have  a  parent's  place  in  my  affections.  It  is  too  far 
away.  My  desire  is,  at  least,  to  be  near  thee  till  death  sepa- 
rates  

With  respect  to  ourselves  I  hardly  know  what  to  say.     As  the 


58  A  FATHER'S  HAND  DIRECTS. 

season  advances  we  more  and  more  feel  how  lonely  and  desolate 
is  our  fireside.  All  seem  vacant  places,  never  again  to  be  filled  in 
time.  Not  one  arrangement  for  the  winter  has  yet  been  made. 
We  are  hurrying  our  preparations,  sewing,  quilting,  etc.,  for  dear 
Martha,  sewing  for  John  and  ourselves,  hoping  to  be  able  to  leave 
by  the  last  week  in  November  or  first  in  December.  As  soon  as 
anything  definite  is  known  I  will  let  thee  know.  My  home  is  with 
you  all,  and  though  other  friends  may  call  me  much  away,  it  will 
be  only  visiting.  I  do  not  expect  now  to  go  out  with  Martha. 
She  will  probably-not  go  to  housekeeping  till  the  ensuing  autumn, 
and  I  shall  not  join  her  till  then.  This  pleases  me  much.  I  shall, 
perhaps,  then  feel  that  I  can  say  good-bye.  Martha  says  she  is 
certainly  coming  to  see  thee  some  time  before  she  leaves.  We 
often  wish  for  thy  pleasant,  cheerful  face  amongst  us.  Lonely  and 
dreary  are  many  days.  I  sometimes  wonder  if  I  shall  ever  be  my- 
self again. 

But  this  is  wrong.  A  Father's  hand  has  done  all  this.  Oh,  that 
we  may  "be  still,  and  know  that  he  is  God!  He  is  ever  faithful 
to  His  promises;"  "all  shall  work  together  for  good  ;"  "heavi- 
ness may  endure  for  a  night,  but  joy  cometh  in  the  morning." 
"  His  grace  is  sufficient,  His  strength  is  made  perfect  in  weakness." 
Oh,  my  dear  mother,  if  I  could  but  feel  that  my  heart,  as  earthly 
ties  are  broken,  was  drawn  nearer  to  a  Saviour's  love  !  But  I  never 
seemed,  in  myself,  so  altogether  wrong,  so  far  from  what  I  ought 
to  be,  as  I  do  now;  so  selfish,  so  full  of  wants,  and  weaknesses,  and 
unbelief.  *  May  we  all  at  length  be  taught  to  suffer  and  do  all  His 
will,  and  to  live  only  for  His  glory. 


TO  H.  W.  B. 

January,  1846,  from  Burlington,  when  there  on  a  visit. 

"  Indeed,  dear  girls,  when  Burlington  gets  in  all  her  beauty  next 
summer  you  must  come.  I  want  to  show  you  your  friend's  native 
place.  If  I  will  promise  you  a  warm  welcome,  you  will  not  mind  its 
being  a  plain  one.  You  would  soon  get  used  to  Aunt  W.'s  neat 
little  sitting-room — even  to  be  wedged  into  Aunt  A.'s  tiny  parlor; 
nothing  of  these  would  be  so  bad  if  our  timid  but  intelligent  warm- 
hearted Scotch  cousin  happened  to  be  in  her  brightest  mood.  You 


TO    HER    SISTER    MARTHA.  59 

would  learn  from  all  this  what  I  have  always  told  you,  that  ours  is 
a  plain  family,  boasting  of  nothing  but  its  freedom  from  pretension. 
Refinement  of  heart,  and  cultivation  of  taste  and  mind,  such  as 
would  fit  us  for  any  station  in  life,  was  our  dear  father's  wish  for 
his  children.  '  Thy  friend  and  thy  father's  friend  forsake  not' 
enjoins  the  man  of  all  wisdom,  and  I  cannot  tell  you  how  near  to 
orphan  hearts  these  relations  of  our  dear  parents  have  become. 
Never  can  I  forget  when  in  our  beautiful  but  desolate  home  their 
kind  urgent  invitation  came  to  us  last  fall  to  pass  the  winter  with 
them — the  delicacy,  the  love  it  showed  us — we  three  girls  when 
in  my  room  (where  you  first  slept,  dear  H.)  and  we  sat  down  and 
wept  long,  like  very  children.  Ah,  it  would  ill  become  us  to  feel 
any  pride  now,  with  our  future  uncertain  prospects.  '  The  peace 
of  God  which  passeth  all  understanding'  I  trust  will  ever  be  our 
portion,  whatever  may  be  our  situation  and  condition  in  life.  This 
blessing  is  enduring  riches  and  perfect  happiness  !  We  know  this, 
and  all  the  future  is  left  without  a  doubt  or  fear  in  His  hands. 
Whoso  dwelleth  in  the  defence  of  the  Most  High  shall  abide  under 
the  shadow  of  the  Almighty. 

JEANETTE." 


TO  MRS.  CANFIELD. 

BROOKFIELD,  Tuesday  afternoon,  June  2,  1846. 
MY  EVER  PRECIOUS  SISTER  : — 

Soon  as  I  received  your  last  letter  I  felt  I  must  write  immediately; 
though  when  I  finished  my  former  one  I  said  to  E.  "I  don't  know 

that  I  ever  want  to  write  to  M again."     You  know  that,  by 

constitution,  realization  of  realities  is  always  sudden,  deep,  and  (in 
mercy)  momentary  with  me.  Separation — all  in  the  present — all 
in  the  future — our  life — my  life — came  upon  me.  Do  not  blame — 
it  could  not  have  been  met  before,  any  more  than  turned  aside 
from  then.  Blessed  be  His  name,  who  so  early  in  life  bestowed 
His  grace  upon  me,  so  that  at  such  times  I  have  ever  been  taught 
to  "be  still,  and  know  that  He  is  God."  Merciful,  too,  that  pro- 
vision of  my  nature  (which  some  count  weakness)  that  thoughts 
and  emotions  so  soon  pass  away;  that  whenever  the  spirit  is  pressed 
till,  to  itself,  there  seems  no  life  in  it,  it  finds  the  power  to  rise 


60  SUFFERING    REMOVED. 

again,  and  renewed  strength  and  vigor  flows  into  it.    I  know  nature 
does  much,  but  I  trust  grace  aids  in  this. 

You  will  learn  from  this,  dearest,  that  I  have,  can  have,  nothing 
now  to  learn  from  separation*  from  you;  and  that  all  the  bitterness 
of  the  trial  has  passed  by.  I  realize  all  the  changes  of  our  position 
now,  but  know,  too,  the  character  of  the  deep  unquenchable  love 
that  will  ever,  ever  continue  while  life  endures.  "Like  waters 
that  pass  away,"  so  soon  has  the  suffering  of  this  period  been  taken 
from  me;  and  perfect  contentment,  quiet,  and  peace  take  their 
place  again.  But  it  is  all  over.  I  feel  assured  you  are  in  the  path 
where  God  has  placed  you,  and  where  He  will  take  care  of  you; 
and  if  I  am  His,  "  The  Lord  my  pasture  shall  prepare,  and  feed  me 
with  a  shepherd's  care."  Among  the  thoughts,  I  was  sure  you  were 
lost  forever;  that  our  own  old  Martha,  my  sister,  henceforth  would 
be,  could  only  be,  some  other  person.  Your  letter  from  Washing- 
ton forever  sets  this  at  rest;  you  will  always  be  the  same. 

TO  MRS.  CANFIELD,  at  Delaware,  O. 

BROOKFIELD,  August  24,  1846. 

.  .  .  .  But  it  will  be  strange,  indeed,  if  you  and  I  are  not 
happy  together.  Your  marriage  has  broken  me  up;  may  be  I 
shall  get  back  to  be  myself  again  with  you.  I  have  never  for  one 
moment  yet  realized  your  new  position.  This  is  one  reason  why 
I  have  so  seldom  written  to  you,  and  my  letters  have  been  such 
lifeless  things.  I  was  always  writing  to  somebody  else  ;  you  were 
"passing  the  winter  with  Mrs.  Richards,"  or  "away  from  home  at 
school,"  to  come  back  after  a  while.  I  have  not  been  able  to  think 
about  you  at  all.  But  I  must  wipe  away  these  tears,  and  say,  as  I 
have  often  and  truly  said,  "Never  have  I  spent  a  happier  summer 
than  the  past" — simple,  natural  pleasures,  such  as  God  can  pour 
into  the  heart  when  he  takes  away  care  and  sorrow,  and  gives  it  to 
feel  the  quiet  joy  of  country  life,  when  the  feet  and  hands  are 
busy,  trying  to  lose  sight  of  self  in  thinking  of  and  doing  for 
others 

And  now,  dear,  dear  M.,  when  shall  we  see  each  other  face  to 
face?  Oh,  I  dare  not  think  of  it.  All,  all  seems  like  a  dream  that 

*  Refers  to  her  sister's  marriage  the  month  before  to  Rev.  Dr.  Canfield. 


TO    REV.    S.    C.    DAMON.  6 1 

you  have  gone  ;  that  I  am  going  to  you;  above  all  that  your  home 
is  in  the  far  West.  We  shall  be  happy,  I  know  ;  but,  dearest,  do 
not  count  my  happiness  by  your  own.  This  you  must  remember. 
I  mention  this  that  you  and  brother  C.  may  feel  I  anticipate  no 
great  things  for  myself  in  this  way.  I  dread,  more  .than  words  can 
tell,  having  a  home  among  those  who  know  nothing  of  me — stran- 
gers. You  know  what  you  have  always  been  to  me,  what  being 
with  you  must  be.  It  was  a  little  thing  for  one  who  took  all  with 
her  to  leave  old  things,  sacred  and  endeared  associations.  She 
went  to  begin  life  anew.  The  difference  is  in  the  heart.  God  has 
made  that  difference;  He,  too,  will  make  the  happiness,  different 
in  kind,  perhaps,  not  in  degree;  for  He  is  fully  able  to  satisfy  and 
fill  the  soul. 


TO  THE  REV.  S.  C.  DAMON,  of  Honolulu. 

BROOKFIELD,  Montgomery  County,  Pa.,  Aug.  29,  1846. 

Yes,  my  dear  friend,  "S.  C.  D.,"  this  is  now  the  home  of  some 
of  those  Burlington  friends  who  have  never  forgotten  you.  Time, 
it  is  said,  softens  every  backward  view,  so  that  the  further  we  ad- 
vance on  life's  journey  the  brighter,  more  precious  become  scenes 
left  far  behind.  Then,  surely,  the  converse  of  mind  with  mind, 
the  communion  of  Christian  hearts,  and  the  social  fellowship  of 
friends  in  the  house  of  prayer,  and  at  the  family  fireside  can  never 
be  forgotten.  And  if  friendship  in  its  purity — that  power  of  appre- 
ciation and  understanding,  that  congeniality  of  spirit  which  binds 
the  heart  to  some  who  cross  our  path,  while  others  pass  on  forgot- 
ten— if  this  power  be  of  divine  origin,  come  from  heaven,  then  ''to 
heaven  it  returneth;"  and  there  will  be  its  fruition  of  enjoyment, 
when  we  "shall  sit  down  with  Abraham,  and  Isaac,  and  Jacob  in 
the  kingdom  of  heaven."  The  deeper,  more  sacred  gift  of  the 
heart,  love,  is  indestructible ;  it  is  here  tried  and  purified,  then 
hath  in  heaven  its  perfect  rest.  And  why  may  not  the  same  be  said 
of  friendship?  Do  not  you,  and  she  who  shares  your  distant  home, 
often  believe  this  as  your  memory  dwells  upon  many  left  behind? 
Dear  friends,  I  do  feel  that  heart  will  blend  with  kindred  heart  as 
we  unite  in  ascriptions  of  praise  to  the  Lamb  who  washed  us  and 
redeemed  us  to  God  with  His  blood;  and  deeper  will  be  the  notes 


62  A    BEAUTIFUL   HOME    SADDENED. 

of  joy,  sweeter,  higher  the  songs  of  praise  that,  saved  forever,  by 
our  side  are  those  we  knew  and  loved  and  prayed  for  here. 

Will  there  be  future  recognition?  It  may  be  so;  it  can  do  no 
harm  to  think  so  (if  "Scripture  is  silent,")  while  the  soul  looks  for- 
ward to  "that  rest"  as  deriving  its  source  and  fullness  of  joy  from 
the  presence  of  the  Lamb  slain,  the  beholding  of  His  face  in  right- 
eousness. Many  friends — our  friend,  "S.  C.  D" — can  never  be 
forgotten. 

Early  in  the  spring  your  letter  was  received.  Why  has  it  not 
been  answered  sooner  ?  Not  because  it  was  not  truly  appreciated. 
Brother  gave  it  to  me  in  "the  Union,"  just  as  we  were  getting  in 
the  carriage  to  drive  home;  and  if  you  had  seen  and  heard  all  that 
Jeanette  and  Martha  said  (occasionally  appealing  to  John,  who  was 
with  them,)  as  they  rode  along,  you  would  know  tidings  of  a  distant 
friend  are  "good  news."  But  I  could  not  answer  it;  the  thought 
of  it  would  make  my  heart  swell  with  emotion  too  painful.  1  can 
only  say  we  are  orphans. 

In  April,  1845,  we  moved  to  this  more  beautiful  home  than  Point 
Pleasant.  Our  beloved,  patient  mother  was  taken  that  month ;  our 
father  the  July  following.  In  the  first  case  there  had  been  feeble 
health  all  winter ;  in  the  other  agonizing  illness  for  two  weeks. 
We  had  known  sorrow  before,  but  this  was  a  far  deeper  drinking 
of  the  cup,  and  for  a  long  time  our  hearts  refused  to  be  comforted. 
Not  that  the  hand  of  the  Lord  was  not  with  us;  oh,  no!  His 
mercy  held  us  up,  and  never  for  one  moment  forsook  us.  Blessed 
be  His  name,  we  do  not  sorrow  for  these  as  those  without  hope. 
We  laid  them  down  to  rest,  we  trust,  sleeping  in  Jesus  until  the 
resurrection  morn. 

The  family  of  relatives  with  whom  you  stopped  in  Hulmeville 
(the  Harrisons — as  dear  to  my  heart  as  our  own)-^-have  also  suffered 
much  in  the  death  of  the  only  daughter  and  a  younger  son,  a  youth 
of  seventeen  years.  This,  you  know,  was  to  me  as  the  loss  of  a 
brother  and  sister ;  for  years  I  had  been  loved  and  considered  as 
such.  But  blessed  are  the  dead  who  die  in  the  Lord.  They  were 
early  called,  and  fitted,  we  trust,  for  their  Saviour's  kingdom. 
"How  grows  in  paradise  our  store!"  may  we  well  exclaim,  as  we 
glance  over  the  six  years  since  you  left  this  country.  You,  too, 
dear  friend,  have  begun  your  treasure  there,  and  have  given  back 
to  God  one  precious  gift  of  His  love,  your  first-born  little  boy.  A 


LOVES   THE   CHURCH.  63 

deeper  shadow  must  have  been  cast  over  the  mother's  heart,  because 
separated  from  her  family  and  nearest  friends  in  the  hour  of  trial. 
But  she  had,  I  doubt  not,  all  that  could  be  given  by  the  watchful 
love  of  him  for  whose  sake  home  and  kindred  had  been  forsaken ; 
and,  above  all,  the  support  and  comfort  of  a  Saviour's  love.  Let 
us  not  murmur  under  the  chastenings  of  the  Lord,  nor  faint  when 
we  are  rebuked  of  Him.  If  Christ  is  our  portion,  "  the  sufferings 
of  this  present  time  are  not  worthy  to  be  compared  with  the  glory 
which  shall  be  revealed." 

What  has  become  of  the  prayer-book  I  gave  you  ?  Do 
not  think  that  I  am  less  an  Episcopalian  than  in  other  days.  Ex- 
perience has  only  more  and  more  taught  me  the  beauty  and 
excellence  of  the  visible  church  of  Christ  of  which  I  am  an 
unworthy  member.  Her  liturgy  and  articles  need  only  to  be 
examined  to  be  respected  and  loved.  Under  the  protection  of 
the  God  of  salvation  she  will  not  be  destroyed, -though  at  times  she 
is  cast  down  by  the  power  of  enemies  within  and  without  her  border. 

How  I  should  like  to  drop  in  and  sit  an  evening  with  you  and 
your  little  ones.  Will'  you  never  come  to  America  again?  Your 
home  seems  to  be  one  of  the  far-off,  green  spots  of  our  world,  and 
I  know  you  fill  just  the  little  niche  marked  out  for  you  by  the  hand 
that  "chooses  the  bounds  of  our  habitation."  The  Lord  is  with 
you.  I  can  imagine  your  ways  and  manner  of  doing  good  to  the 
poor  homeless  sailors.  Nature,  as  well  as,  I  trust,  grace,  fits  you 
for  your  high  and  useful  vocation.  Be  not  weary  in  well-doing ; 
the  sown  seed  will  spring  up,  though  the  blossom  and  perfected 
fruit  may  never  be  perceived  by  your  eye  till  you  behold  them 
flourishing  in  the  paradise  of  God.  The  bread  by  your  hands  is 
literally  "cast  upon  the  waters,"  but  it  is  to  be  found  "after  many 
days." 

But  I  must  come  back  to  our  own  family  circle  and  tell  you 
something  of  our  dear  sister  Martha.  Her  home  is  in  Ohio.  Last 
May  (1846)  she  was  married  to  a  clergyman  of  our  church,  the 
Rev.  E.  H.  Canfield,  a  native  of  Arlington,  Vt.  He  was  for  some 
years  connected  with  Mr.  Uobbs'  school;  taught  at  Bristol  College, 
opposite  Burlington.  His  church  is  in  Delaware,  the  county  town, 
north  of  Columbus.  Dear  Martha  is  very  happy ;  she  insists  that 
I  shall  pass  this  winter  with  her.  Our  little  family  are  willing  pro- 
vided I  come  back  in  the  spring.  I  have  no  desire  to  go — am  much 


64  LIFE'S  SHADOWS  FELT,  NOT  SEEN. 

too  old  to  like  new  places — but  I  want  to  be  with  this  dearest  sister; 
though  my  heart  must  ever  cling  to  scenes  of  childhood's  days; 
here  my  youth  has  passed,  and  earthly  joys  and  hopes  have  passed. 

I  have  but  few  family  cares,  though  housekeeper;  and,  for  the 
first  time  in  my  life,  know  the  pleasure  of  attempting  out-door  use- 
fulness. Oh,  it  is  comparatively  easy  to  have  the  hands  and  feet 
busy  in  well-doing;  but  who  shall  order  the  heart  and  purify  its 
motives, so  that  it  can  always  testify  "the  love  of  Christ  constraineth 
me?" 

I  must  say  farewell.  If  we  never  again  speak  face  to  face,  it 
will  be  but  as  a  day  before  the  morning  of  eternity  shall  open  upon 
us.  That  you  and  yours,  and  all  dear  to  us,  may  be  forever  in 
Him,  and  have  part  in  the  first  resurrection  ever  prays 

Your  friend, 

JEANETTE  HULME. 


Sept.  7,  1846. 

Before  closing  my  package  for  our  distant  friends  I  must  say  a 
few  more  words,  though  my  letter  is  already  long  enough  to  prove 
I  am  just  the  Jeanette  of  past  days.  The  shadows  that  have  fallen 
upon  my  heart  through  life  are  felt,  not  seen.  How  sure  I  am  that 
friend  "S.  C.  D.,"  wife,  and  I,  might  again  pass  hours  together  of 
no  common  social  enjoyment.  All  changes  would  be  forgotten. 
Oh,  how  sweet  is  the  hope  of  that  "better  country"  to  which,  I 
trust,  we  are  hastening !  Christ  is  our  hope,  may  we  be  found  in 
Him! 

Do  write  very  soon,  everything  about  self,  wife,  and  little  ones. 
Do  not  address  "Miss  Jeanette;"  though  I  am  an  "old  maid," 
I  am  not  particular  in  demanding  respectful  titles.  You  will  write 
to  old  friends  who  must  learn  from  your  letters  they  are  not  for- 
gotten. Again  let  me  say  how  I  should  love  to  see  you  and 
your  little  family.  Do  you  not  remember  I  promised  to  join  you 
and  wife  if  I  should  outlive  family  claims?  Those  may  prove 
prophetic  words,  and  my  days  may  close  on  those  distant  Islands. 
Has  not  the  providence  of  God  registered  stranger  events?  My 
heart  is  now  much  divided.  John  and  E.  "must  have  Jeanette 
here,"  Martha  "must  have  her  in  the  West."  But  the  days  may 
come  when-  none  may  be  left  to  claim  my  services  and  love,  and 


A   DIVIDED    HEART.  65 

He  who  has  in  love  and  mercy  chosen  all  my  changes  may  appoint 
me  some  service  amid  new  and  distant  scenes.  He  doeth  all  things 
well.  Pray  that  I  may  be  wholly  His;  then  it  will  matter  not 
whether  I  have  compassed  oceans  and  seas  to  do  His  bidding,  or 
only  learned  to  "stand  and  wait;"  I  shall  be  His  forever,  through 
the  riches  of  His  grace. 


TO  MRS.  CANFIELD  AT  DELAWARE,  OHIO. 

Sept.  1846. 
MY  OWN  DEAREST  ONE:  — 

It  is  now  decided  I  shall  probably  leave  home  early  next  week. 
Do  not  think  about  our  meeting.  I  do  not  feel  as  if  I  can  write  one 
word.  Oh,  ever  since  your  first  letter  in  the  summer,  fixing  the 
idea  of  my  being  with  you  this  winter,  how  divided  has  been  this 
heart !  The  last  few  weeks  I  cannot  describe.  Sometimes  I  thought 
I  should  never  get  to  you.  Everybody  opposed,  every  one  had 
some  objection.  John  was  distressed  about  the  sickness;  all  said  I 
should  be  sick,  and  only  increase  your  trouble.  He  seems  half 
sick  with  the  thought  of  separation,  and  is  really  much  troubled 
about  my  leaving  him — considers  his  "claims  far  above  any  body's 
else,"  etc.  /  have  not  been  afraid  of  the  sickness,  but  would  not, 
for  your  sake,  seek  danger;  and  so  would  not  take  the  responsi- 
bility of  deciding  contrary  to  their  .wishes.  I  will  come  and  do 
what  I  can.  All  our  lives  are  in  His  hand  who  "chooses  all  our 
changes."  We  are  able  to  say,  "This  God  is  our  God  forever  and 
ever."  Happy,  blessed  is  our  lot,  whatever  may  be  earth's  portion 
measured  out  to  us,  while  hastening  on  to  our  inheritance  above. 
"  I  will  never  leave  thee  nor  forsake  thee"  is  our  promise.  May 
only  His  will  be  done!  The  thought  of  all  the  illness  about  you 
has  made  us  very  sad,  but  I  hope  this  will  find  things  much  better. 

I  am  in  all  things,  as  ever, 

Your  own 


66  OHIO — COLUMBUS — DELAWARE. 


V. 

"  In  all  thy  ways  acknowledge  Him  and  He  shall  direct  thy  paths.     The  Lord 
shall  guide  thee  continually." 

Comes  to  Ohio — First  impressions — Happiness  of  her  sister,  Mrs  Canfield,  in  her 
New  Home.     Oct.  1846 — March,  1847. 

IN  the  month  of  October,  1846,  Miss  Hulme  came  to  Delaware, 
having  for  escort  Mr.  P.  B.  Wilcox,  of  Columbus — the  journey  be- 
ing made  by  stage  coach.  Arriving  at  Columbus  she  was  the  guest 
of  Mr.  J.  W.  A.'s  family  for  one  night,  and  often  spoke  in  terms 
of  grateful  recollection  of  the  courtesy  there  extended  to  her — an 
entire  stranger.  Her  graceful  figure  and  beautiful  face  encircled, 
as  it  then  was,  by  natural  curls,  with  the  addition  of  her  entertaining 
conversation,  won  the  admiration  of  these  new  acquaintances,  and 
established  them  as  enduring  friends.  A  gentleman  living  there 
afterwards  spoke  of  meeting  her  on  the  street  at  that  time,  but  not 
knowing  who  she  was,  he  could  not  resist  the  impulse  to  turn  and 
look  at  her  again,  so  deeply  impressed  was  he  with  the  beautiful 
figure  and  sweet  face  that  had  just  passed  him. 

How  it  should  increase  our  admiration  to  know  that  she  had  con- 
secrated these  charming  gifts  to  the  service  of  Him,  whose  faithful 
servant  she  was,  and  whose  hand  was  now  guiding  her  to  the  place 
where  the  happiest  days  of  her  life  were  to  be  passed. 

Her  first  letter  to  home  friends  from  Delaware  was  to  her  brother 
John,  which  is  here  given. 

DELAWARE,  O.,  Oct.  19,  1846. 

My  first  letter  was  to  be  to  you,  dearest  brother;  now  what  shall 
it  be  about?  I  would  not  write  last  week,  because  I  wanted  to  be 
able  to  see  things  and  people  in  their  true  light,  and  Mattie  said, 
"No,  not  till  after  Sunday." 

It  needed  but  one  glance  as  Martha  met  me  at  the  door,  to  put 
all  thoughts  of  sickness  and  sadness  far  away.  From  morning  to 


A    TRIAL — HEART    LONGINGS.  67 

night  her  cheerful  voice  and  laughing  tone  (she  laughs  all  the 
time,  and  Mr.  C.  says  no  day  without  a  laugh  has  passed  since  she 
left  us!)  plainly  declare  she  has  all  her  heart  can  wish.  I  believe 
it.  Do  not  think  the  wealth  of  the  Indies  could  add  one  item  to 
her  happiness.  And  (between  ourselves)  in  one  sense  it  would 
make  no  difference  if  every  relative  and  friend  lived  in  the  furthest 
corner  of  the  world.  Her  husband  is  the  whole  of  life  to  her.  I 
have  not  felt  jealous.  I  knew  it  must  be  so,  and  love  this  sister  of 
my  childhood  so  much  that  I  cannot  but  enjoy  the  sight  and  thought 
of  her  perfect  happiness.  I  say  perfect,  because  she  has  all  this 
world  allows.  I  mention  this  more  for  the  sister's  sake  than  to 
please  you.  I  can  imagine  your  smile.  It  is  well  for  old  maids 
and  bachelors  to  smile;  I  smile,  too.  But  the  truth  remains:  the 
Creator  of  the  heart  has  ordained  its  sources  of  happiness;  these 
neglected,  or  by  the  providence  of  His  hand  turned  aside,  its  deep- 
est joys  and  brightest  hopes  can  never  be  known.  Not  in  theory, 
only  practically,  am  I  an  old  maid. 

I  have  thought  of  you  and  dear  E.  oh,  how  much  ! — for  the  first 
day  or  two  not  without  tears  that  would  start.  It  is  all  well.  But  the 
trial  of  leaving  you,  and  quiet  eastern  settled  life,  with  its  thousand 
sacred  associations,  was  more  than  I  can  ever  tell.  My  whole 
journey  here,  and  the  heart  longings  for  you  the  first  few  days  must 
not  be  remembered  or  spoken  of  .... 

I  can't  describe  this  town — Delaware;  as  a  county-seat  it  is  much 
smaller  than  I  expected — perhaps  as  large  as  Lewisburg  or  larger — 
but  full  of  business  and  activity;  a  mixed  population,  preaching  on 

Sunday  in  four  different  languages I  feel  "  all  strange," 

and  can't  tell  about  the  people  yet.  I  found  elegant  cards  of  invi- 
tation to  Miss  P.'s  wedding  on  Wednesday  eve.  I  had  to  go. 
With  a  bow  of  white  ribbon,  white  gloves,  and  a  home-heart,  I  was 
ushered  into  the  "ladies'  room,"  among  a  group  of  laughing  faces. 
I  am  sorry  I  cannot  describe  this  evening,  but  really  my  feelings 
made  me  too  much  out  of  place  to  enjoy  or  understand  anything. 
.  .  .  .  I  looked  all  about  to  see  if  there  was  one  looking  like 
a  friend  for  me,  gentleman  or  lady.  I  saw  none.  But  more  of  the 
young  folks  hereafter,  when  I  get  acquainted.  I  may  like  many 
when  I  know  them. 

The  church  is  a  beautiful  Gothic  building,  of  gray  stone,  with 
arched,  many-paned  windows,  etc.,  in  perfect  keeping  with  the 


68  LONELINESS — COLUMBUS. 

design.  The  wedding  party  came  into  the  church  after  the  usual 
lecture,  which  we  attended.  When  the  sweet  rich  tones  of  the 
organ  first  struck  upon  ray  ear,  there  came  a  rushing  recollection 
of  old  St.  Mary's  ("our  old  choice"),  and  your  place  and  mine, 
and  many  faces  never  more  to  be  seen  on  earth.  Oh,  what  loneli- 
ness! How  far  from  home  I  seemed!  I  cannot  mingle  with 
strangers.  My  happiness  was  found  for  me  in  our  own  quiet 
neighborhood  the  past  year,  and  in  old  tried  friends.  But  I  know 
the  same  hand  can  give  the  same  degree  of  happiness  here.  I  felt 
sure  of  this  yesterday,  when  in  our  most  comfortable,  well-finished 
basement  a  Bible  class  of  intelligent  girls  was  put  under  my  care. 
Everything  about  the  church  pleases  me 

You  will  have  to  come  yourself  to  take  me  home,  I  am  sure, 
dear  brother.  So  contrive  this  winter  to  lay  by  just  twice  twenty- 
five  dollars,  and  come  for  me  next  May Can  I  ever 

live  in  the  West?  It  is  no  place  for  old  maids  with  Eastern  hearts, 
though  "little  women"  are  much  liked. 

The  first  real  frost  last  night.  Saw  no  country  to  be  compared 
in  point  of  beauty  and  attractiveness  with  our  own ;  nor  one  view 
superior  or  equal  to  Prospect  Hill.  Tell  E.  to  look,  ride  about, 

and  enjoy  it  while  she  may Columbus,  one  of  the 

fairest  spots  ever  seen,  East  and  West  meet.  Refinement,  luxury, 
education,  and  taste,  with  independence,  activity,  and  spirit  of  pro- 
gress; and  New  Haven  houses,  yards,  grounds,  etc. ! 

It  was  not  long  before  she  became  interested  in  parish  work, 
identifying  herself  with  the  rector's  plans  and  rendering  efficient 
service  in  the  Sunday-school  and  church,  and  soon,  too,  became  a 
general  favorite  with  both  old  and  young. 

TO  HER  SISTER. 

DELAWARE,  March  10,  1847. 
DEAR  SISTER  : — 

Martha,  as  usual,  is  sitting  by,  dressed  in  "brown  striped 
wrapper,"  busily  engaged  with  a  large  volume  of  Washington 
Irving's  works,  open  at  "Tales  of  a  Traveller."  Mr.  C.  Platt 
brought  this  book  last  evening,  with  the  fifth  part  of  "  Dombey  and 
Son","  which  he  read  to  me.  We  did  not  like  tne  parts  at  all,  but 
hearing  they  were  reading  it  at  home  made  us  want  to  look  it  over. 


DICKENS.  69 

\ 

It  is  nothing  to  read  to  one's  self,  but  is  in  interest  above  most 
other  books  to  listen  to  in  the  family  circle.  Poor  little  Paul ! 
How  often  I  thought  of  brother  John's  voice  and  manner  of  read- 
ing his  sweet,  sad  story,  as  the  new  reader  read  the  many  beautiful 
passages  last  evening.  The  whole  character  of  the  child  has  deeply 
interested  us.  The  longing  of  his  gentle  spirit,  the  quickened  sense 
of  the  beautiful  and  undying,  the  infantile  purity  of  his  heart,  and 
all,  all  that  spoke  of  a  spirit  too  finely  tuned  for  an  earthly  home — 
brought  back  with  thrilling  power  one  taken  from  our  side — our 
brother.  Can  it  be  that  a  mind  can  conceive  images  utterly  strange 

to  the  heart  ?    It  seems  as  if  Dickens  must  be  a  better  man 

Private  boarding  cannot  be  found;  no  pleasant  houses  can  be 
rented ;  cooks  and  chambermaids  are  things  unknown  by  name.  But 
notwithstanding  all  this  a  fine  hotel  is  finishing;  and  if  Miss  Harland 
will  not  stay  long  with  her  old  Eastern  friends  we  will  engage  she 
shall  be  as  comfortable  and  pleasantly  fixed  for  summer  months  as 
she  can  expect  or  wish,  considering  she  is  in  "the  West,"  occupy- 
ing the  place  of  huts  and  wigwams,  forests,  and  Indian  trails  a  few 
years  ago.  Everybody  who  can  should  pass  some  time  in  our  "far 
West,"  and  at  least  glance  at  this  noble  portion  of  our  State,  and 
see  its  moving,  working,  settling  power  as  plans  and  people  are 
worked  up  and  moulded  into  social  and  civilized  life.  Are  you  not 
all  coming  this  summer?  You  and  brother  certainly  will;  but 
more  of  this  hereafter. 


70  NEW   ACQUAINTANCE. 


VI. 

"  I  being  in  the  way  the  Lord  led  me." 
"The  days  of  thy  mourning  shall  be  ended." 

New  acquaintances — Engagement — Letters  to  her  husband  before  marriage — 
Strength  of  religious  character — Return  to  Brookfield  via  Lake  Erie  and  New 
York — Marriage  and  return  to  Ohio.  1847. 

WHETHER  to  lift  the  veil  that  should  always  sacredly  conceal 
from  other  eyes  that  interval  between  acquaintance,  plighting  of 
troth,  and  marriage,  and  reveal  any  part  of  what  then  occurred,  is 
a  question  that  has  been  many  times  turned  over  in  the  mind, 
doubtful  of  its  propriety.  But  as  the  object  in  this  memorial  is  to 
set  forth  the  life  and  character  of  our  loved  one  as  it  was— a  "living 
epistle,"  testifying  to  the  truth  and  power  of  the  religion  of  our 
Lord  and  Saviour,  under  all  circumstances — so  much  of  what  then 
passed,  as  will  do  this,  is  here  given. 

Her  affections  were  bestowed  with  all  the  devotion  and  sincerity 
of  her  earnest  nature,  fully  and  freely,  with  but  one  condition — 
"My  God  must  be  thy  God."  And  this  position  was  inflexibly 
taken:  "Nor  height,  nor  depth,  nor  any  other  creature,  could 
separate  her  from  the  love  of  God."  This  point  decided,  there 
was  ever  after — not  for  time  only,  but,  as  was  believed,  for  eternity, 
perfect  oneness  in  all  things.  The  strength  and  depth  of  this 
mutual  love  being  made  more  abiding  and  endearing  through  her 
decision,  and  the  love  of  God  constraining. 

*Her  religious  convictions  and  principles  were  manifested  in  her 
letters  written  previous  to  marriage;  not  in  any  sense  obtrusively, 
but  naturally,  in  simplicity  and  Godly  sincerity.  The  following 
extract  is  from  her  first  letter:  — 

August,  1847. 

Oh,  no !  emotions  such  as  these  cannot  be  told,  can  only  be  read 
by  Him  whose  hand  formed  the  heart — "the  harp  of  thousand, 
thousand  strings" — who  tunes  those  strings,  and  ever  holds  them 


MY   GOD    MUST   BE   THY    GOD.  71 

in  His  hand,  so  that  no  breath  can  pass  upon  them,  no  chord  can 
vibrate,  but  at  His  will.  Yes,  he  knows  our  hearts.  Oh,  let  us 
give  those  hearts  into  His  holy  keeping.  Then  earth  can  have  no 
sorrow  that  His  face  cannot  brighten,  no  temptation.that  His  grace 
cannot  "make  a  way  of  escape"  for,  and  no  good  that  He  will  not 
freely  bestow.  Deep,  sure,  abiding  peace  through  the  fleeting  days 
yet  yours  here,  and  in  your  eternal  life  to  come  glory  and  joy  ever- 
lasting. Oh,  shall  not  this  be  your  chosen  portion? 

Yes,  He  knows  our  hearts,  and  I  trust  will  guide  us  in  all  things 
as  shall  be  for  our  best  and  highest  good.  Shall  we  not  in  all  things 
say,  "Be  Thou  our  guide?"  Forgive  me  for  saying  so  much,  but 
should  I  not  speak  now?  Must  not  this  my  first  letter  tell,  as  did 
my  first  words,  "My  God  must  be  thy  God?"  Oh,  for  one  to 
whose  words  of  love  my  heart  has  so  strangely,  willingly  listened  ! 
I  seem  to  have  but  one  desire.  May  the  Spirit  of  all  grace  guide 
that  one  into  all  truth !  Think  not,  when  duty  is  but  a  task,  and 
the  heart  seerns  to  turn  blindly,  wilfully  away  from  the  view  of 
eternal  things,  that  God  has  turned  from  you,  or  that  His  ear  has 
not  heard  the  faint  desires  you  may  have  expressed,  and  the  imper- 
fect resolutions  you  have  formed.  Oh,  no!  "He  waits  to  be 
gracious."  He  is  only,  while  holding  you  in  His  hand,  showing 
you  yet  deeper  and  deeper  views  of  'what  the  heart  of  man  is,  and 
how  utterly  unable  to  help  itself  without  His  grace.  That  grace  is 
ready  to  be  poured  out,  that  at  such  a  moment,  all  ruined,  dark, 
and  ignorant  as  he  is,  man  may  have  a  helper.  The  Son  of  God 
suffered  and  died;  He  listens;  "we  are  saved  through  Him." 

Forgive  me,  I  did  not  want  to  preach.  This  is  but  the  expression 
of  my  heart. 

[The  tenor  of  these  letters  to  her  husband  before  marriage  will  be  better  under- 
stood when  it  is  known  that  he  had  not  yet  ratified  and  confirmed  the  solemn  vow 
that  was  made  in  his  name  at  baptism.]  » 

August,  1847. 

.     .     .     .     There  are  thoughts  that  will  press  upon  the  heart, 
thoughts  of  you,  of  ourselves;    and  why  shall  I  not  tell  them? 
.     .     .     Let  us  each  have  this  privilege  upon  all  subjects,  re- 
serving only  thoughts,  the  expression  of  which  lessens  their  sacred- 
ness  or  destroys  their  feeling  power.      "The  rosebud  is  no  sooner 


72  A    SOCIAL   RELIGION. 

unfolded  to  the  glare  of  day  than  its  perfume  is  lost."  The  deep 
recesses  of  the  heart  where  the  eye  of  God  only  can  penetrate,  the 
secret  workings  of  the  immortal  mind,  the  transactions  of  the  soul 
of  man  with  its  Maker  cannot,  perhaps,  ought  not  to  be  exposed  to 
any  mortal  eye.  The  depths  of  the  soul  are  open  only  to  its  God. 
Oh,  blessed  is  the  privilege  to  man  when  he  begins  to  look  within, 
that  he  can  bow  before  and  pour  out  his  whole  soul  unto  a  God 
that  knows  and  can  understand  him  !  And  when  this  God  is  re- 
vealed and  we  behold  Him  in  "the  face  of  Jesus  Christ,"  "God 
our  Saviour,"  and  learn  and  believe  that  with  His  knowledge  of 
us  is  joined  infinite  power  to  do  all  for  us  and  in  us;  oh,  has  not 
the  soul  found  its  all-sufficient,  its  satisfying  portion?  May  this  be 
your  chosen  portion,  "Israel's  God"  your  God,  Jesus  your  tried, 
valued,  ever  precious  Saviour 

The  subject  of  religion  can  never  be  put  from  the  lips  of  those 
who  rightly  love  each  other;  "out  of  the  abundance  of  the  heart" 
the  mouth  must  speak.  Its  helps,  its  comforts,  its  consolations,  its 
power  to  shield  us  against  the  tempter's  designs  and  the  corruptions 
of  our  own  hearts,  our  secret  foes  within,  the  world  without,  its 
strength  in  our  hour  of  weakness,  its  joys  in  our  moments  of  sorrow, 
its  peace  and  blessed  hope  in  darkest  days  of  despondency  and 
want,  its  strength  in  life,  its  power  in  death,  surely  of  all  this  the 
heart  must  speak.  The  religion  of  Jesus  is  a  social  religion  ;  hearts 
that  feel  its  power  must  speak  of  its  worth,  must  say  to  all  about 
them,  "come"  (Rev.  xxii.  17.)  .... 

There  are  some  things  that  need  not,  cannot  be  told.  .  .  .  . 
Thoughts  that  lose  their  sacredness  when  revealed  should  be  known 
only  to  God. 

August  22,    1847. 

Is  Jennie  H.  a  quiet,  thoughtful,  reflective  being?  Then,  indeed, 
she  is  changed.  Does  she  seem  to  herself  other  than  a  bird  of 
passage  through  life's  scenes  of  joys  and  sorrows,  daily  gathering 
up  the  crumbs  of  happiness  let  fall  for  her  from  a  Heavenly  hand, 
and  drinking  of  all  the  little  streams  of  pleasure  that  spring  up  in 
her  path,  unquestioning  whence  they  came  or  how  long  their  con- 
tinuance? For  sorrow,  painful  thought,  and  anxious  care  already 
known  dare  not  look  back ;  for  experience  of  all  life  is,  cannot  look 
forward,  but  who  only  tries  to  learn  day  by  day,  hour  by  hour  to 


NEW,  DEEP   HAPPINESS.  73 

trust  her  happiness,  her  earthly,  her  eternal  all  into  her  heavenly 
Father's  hand,  her  Saviour's  keeping.  Such  she  has  been;  how 
is  she  changed,  and  why?  Oh,  will  that  change  cloud  that  blessed 
source  of  happiness  that  has  been  her  portion  since  her  first  child- 
hood days?  Or  will  emotions  stirring  the  depths,  quickening  and 
expanding  the  immortal  nature,  but  lead  that  nature  yet  nearer  and 
nearer  to  God  the  eternal  source  of  love  ? 

Such,  dear  friend,  is  one  of  the  deep  questionings  which  the 
"old  me"  permits.  How  does  my  heart  reply?  It  knows  not 
how  to  answer;  it  can  only  pray  that  the  good,  ever-watchful 
Shepherd  will  not  suffer  His  erring,  feeblest  lamb  to  wander  from 
His  side  .and  choose  any  pasture,  however  fresh  and  green,  that 
He  has  not  provided  for  her ;  nor  drink  of  any  earthly  stream  un- 
blessed by  His  choosing,  approving  love.  Oh,  if  in  His  sight  our 
hearts  are  one.  and  if  hereafter  one  shall  be  our  path  through  life, 
shall  not  that  path  lead  us  to  one  eternal,  heavenly  home?  When 
the  hour  of  rest  from  all  earthly  things  has  come,  and  my  spirit 
waits  to  take  its  eternal  flight,  and  life  with  all  its  scenes  passes 
before  my  eyes,  how  shall  this  transaction  appear?  Has  it  hasted 
and  helped  the  soul,  or  has  it  marred  and  bound  and  darkened  that 
spirit  in  its  heavenly  journey?  The  love  that  you  offer,  the  new, 
deep  happiness  which  you  open  before  me  presses  this  question 
upon  me.  If  I  am  dear  to  you,  if  my  earthly  all  of  happiness  is  in 
your  hands,  turn  not  away,  the  answer  is  with  you — not  to  be  made 
to  me,  but  to  be  found  in  your  life,  to  be  answered  to  your  God, 
our  God. 


In  September,  to  make  preparations  for  her  marriage,  she  started 
for  Philadelphia,  in  company  with  Mr.  S.  L.  and  C.  H.,  going  via 
Sandusky  and  Lake  Erie  to  Buffalo  and  New  York.  She  writes: — 

ON  BOARD  STEAMBOAT  BUFFALO,  Sept.  16,  1847. 

.  .  .  We  are  comfortably  fixed  for  our  lake  ride,  a  beau- 
tiful day,  bright  sky,  and  fair  winds  being  given  us.  The  rfde  to 
Mansfield  in  the  stage  was  uncomfortable,  and  made  me  quite  un- 
well from  a  feeling  of  faintness  and  extreme  weakness.  Mr.  H 

was  very  kind,  supporting  me  with  his  arm.     I  can  never  forget  his 


74  SOUL   LONGINGS — HOW   SATISFIED. 

kindness.  No  father  could  more  tenderly  have  held  his  daughter. 
I  don't  know  when  little  kindnesses  have  touched  me 
more  than  those  of  the  Delaware  friends  of  yesterday.  Indeed,  I 
dared  not  think  of  all,  all  the  goodness,  the  "loving  kindness," 
which  a  Heavenly  hand  has  measured  out  to  me  through  all  my 
past  life.  The  last  loving  acts:  my  home  among  strangers;  the 
many  hearts  so  strangely  turned  to  me;  the  realization,  in  its  deep- 
est, fullest  sense,  of  the  orphan's  sweet  promise,  "When  thy  father 
and  thy  mother  forsake  thee,  then  the  Lord  will  take  thee  up;"  the 
gift  of  your  love,  with  its  new,  strange,  immeasurable  joys — Oh,  my 
pen  must  stop,  I  cannot  tell  you.  He  who  reads  our  hearts  only 
knows  what  your  love  has  given  to  me.  I  receive  it  as  His  gift, 
am  not  afraid  to  use  it,  not  afraid  of  abusing  it,  for  He  holds  it  in 
His  hand.  It  is  sanctified  by  his  highest  blessing,  the  blessing  of 
His  grace.  It  will  bind  our  hearts  to  Him  ;  it  is  linked  with  immor- 
tality. Oh,  how  can,  how  does,  that  heart  live  that  is  bounded  by 
earthly  hopes  and  desires;  that  cannot  look  beyond  and  feel  the 
immortality  of  its  love! 

It  is  not  that  I  "love  you  so  much,"  so  very  much,  but  that  the 
love  I  do  bear  you  is  so  filled  with  yearnings,  longings,  and  depths 
of  spiritual  meaning,  that  prove  it  belongs  to  the  soul,  the  immortal 
part  of  our  nature — that  nature  which  can  only  be  fully  satisfied 
when  we  shall  awake  in  the  likeness  of  God,  and  mortality  shall 
have  put  on  immortality.  Is  it  not  so?  .... 

I  have  just  come  from  the  upper  deck,  where  my  heart,  mind, 
and  quiet  thoughts  have  had  deepest  enjoyment.  I  cannot  tell  you 
how  beautiful  this  lake  appears  to  me.  Your  own  heart  can  know 
how  I  have  watched  the  clouds,  gilded  by  the  setting  sun,  the 
spreading  sails  of  the  bird-like  vessels  that  seem  floating  about,  the 
soft  moonlight  on  the  sparkling  waters,  with  the  glorious  wake  of 
light;  the  twinkling  stars  above,  and  the  musical  splashing  of  the 
waters  below; — all  is  beautiful. 

Thursday  morning.  Such  a  sweet  sleep  as  I  had  last  night ! 
How  was  it  with  thee?  ....  I  must  feel  that  you  are  happy, 
I  hop*e  very  happy.  The  blessing  of  God,  the  quiet  peace,  hope, 
and  loving  trust  which  His  grace  bestows,  the  bright  dawning  of 
all  this  is  surely  yours.  Yours,  too,  dearest,  will  be  the  noontide 
light.  Dim,  gray  morning  light  must  give  place  to  the  glories  of 
noon.  The  sun  rises  but  to  continue  his  shining;  so  the  Sun  of 


LAKE    ERIE — A    MORNING    KISS.  75 

Righteousness,  Jesus  our  Saviour,  has  never  cast  one  beam  of  light 
and  hope  upon  any  heart,  but  that  heart  was  to  be  made  all  light, 
all  joy,  all  peace,  through  the  fulness  of  His  grace.  "His  sins, 
which  are  many,  are  all  forgiven."  The  cloud  of  darkness,  cold- 
ness, and  ignorance  has  been  taken  away  from  between  him  and 
his  God.  Almighty,  sovereign  grace  has  turned  his  feet,  and  lifted 
up  his  face  toward  heaven.  The  dimness  of  the  new  light  may  not 
make  this  plain  to  him,  but  henceforth  his  path  will  be  as  "the 
shining  light,  which  shineth  brighter  and  brighter  unto  the  perfect 
day."  Beloved  one,  this  is  God's  testimony,  God's  covenant, 
sealed  with  the  blood  of  His  beloved  Son.  Surely  it  is  to  us  a 
"sure  foundation."  Trusting  here,  we  shall  "never  perish,  but 
have  everlasting  life." 

How  beautiful  is  this  morning !  How  much  I  am  enjoying  this 
homeward  trip — homeward?  no,  my  home  is  only  with  thee  and 
in  thy  love.  Our  boat  is  very  full.  After  breakfast  we  enjoyed 
the  charming  view  for  a  long  time;  kind  Mr.  L.  finding  me  a  quiet 
spot  on  the  forward  deck,  and  then  standing  a  quiet  protector  at 
my  side,  while  I  indulged  my  own  selfish  thoughts  and  fancies, 
with  my  face  turned  toward  the  broad,  blue  lake,  with  its  floating 
clouds  and  silvery  mists.  Soon  a  little  girl  who  was  a  night-neighbor 
(and  who  somewhat  surprised  and  bothered  me  for  a  public  morning 
kiss  before  breakfast),  came  to  us  bringing  her  father,  a  pleasant, 
gentlemanly  man  from  Cleveland.  She  would  come  to-  "that 
lady,"  her  mother  said,  for  she  "could  not  like  the  old  people." 
Now,  only  see  how  full  of  conceit  your  Jennie  is. 

I  had  better  seal  my  letter  or  I  shall  have  but  little  time  to  give 
dear  Martha.  Strange  that  any  one  could  come  between  that  loved 
sister  and  Jennie.  But  "mysterious  is  His  power"  that  brings 
wandering  hearts  together,  and  by  that  sweet  sympathy  those 
"nature-links  and  silken  ties"  which  His  own  hand  forms,  binds 
them  together  never  to  be  severed  by  earthly  hands. 

"They  err  who  tell  us  love  can  die; 
With  life  all  other  passions  fly, 
But  love  is  indestructible; 
Its  holy  flame  forever  burneth, 
From  heaven  it  came,  to  heaven  returneth." 


76  LAKE    ERIE — PLEASANT   THOUGHTS. 

TO  MRS.  E.  H.  CANFIELD. 

STEAMBOAT  BUFFALO,  Thursday  Morning,  10  o'clock,  Sept.  1847. 

DEAREST  SISTER: — 

I  have  folded  my  other  letter,  and  now  promise  a  few  lines  to 

you We  had  a  hurried  dinner  at  Mansfield ;  and  then 

pleasant  seats  in  the  most  comfortable  cars,  and  a  ride  through  the 
most  interesting  part  of  Ohio.  Sandusky  plains  with  their  neat 
farm-houses  and  pretty  villages,  crossed  at  sunset  hour,  are  no 
common  ride.  I  felt  myself  again,  and  enjoyed  it  much,  very 
much.  Too  late  for  a  boat  at  Sandusky;  all  night  at  the  "Porter 
House;"  pleasant  sleep,  though  in  a  too  small  room.  After  breakfast 
Will  and  I  strolled  up  the  streets  and  saw  Mr.  Campbell's  pleasant 
house;  tell  "L."  I  like  Sandusky  very  much.  We  came  on  board 
our  boat  at  8  o'clock.  O,  this  lake-travelling!  I  cannot  tell  you 
how  charmed  I  am  with  it ;  the  lake  itself  is  perfectly  beautiful ; 
and  such  pleasant  company,  such  beautiful  sights  and  sounds;  and 
oh,  such  pleasant  thoughts  and  bright,  bright  hopes !  Dear  M.  I 
am  another  being,  live  in  another  world  ;  and  if  the  glowing  pictures 
were  not  lighted  from  heaven,  if  the  bright  hopes  did  not  rest  on 
God,  my  heart  would  fail  with  its  own  new  joy.  Oh,  how  can  that 
heart  love  that  cannot  look  beyond  this  world  and  feel  the  immor- 
tality of  its  love!  You  will  be  surprised  that  I  am  so  happy;  but 
I  do  not  feel  to  be  going  away  from  all  of  you;  the  home  of  my 
heart  is  forever  fixed.  Oh,  how  strange,  how  mysterious  all  this 
for  me  !  I  cannot  write  to  you  now,  such  thronging  thoughts  will 
come;  I  shall  soon,  very  soon  be  with  you;  I  do,  I  must  feel  this; 
this  homeward  journey  seems  but  steps  onward  in  the  path  that  will 
soon  put  me  by  your  side,  dearest  sister.  Is  it  strange  to  say  this? 
I  cannot  help  it. 

Rev.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wheat,  from  Nashville,  Tenn.,  are  in  our 
company.  Mr.  Howard  introduced  me  to  them  ;  most  pleasant 
and  intelligent  people.  If  it  were  not  for  the  attractions  of  my 
pen  I  should  have  had  such  pleasant  long  talks  with  divers  young 
and  old  folks,  who  are  so  kind  and  friendly  to  your  sister.  I  am 

just  as  full  of  "  conceit"  as  ever,  tell  brother  C .  Dear  brother 

C !  'twas  too  bad  not  to  bid  him  good-bye.  Love,  much  love 

to  him,  and  a  thousand  kisses  to  darling  Jamie.  I  mean  to  see 


BROOKFIELD — BEST    EARTHLY    GIFTS.  77 

him  again  before  he  gives  you  one  of  those  pretty  teeth  he  has 
been  promising  us  so  long,  see  if  I  don't. 

Here  comes  Mr.  L .  Almost  to  Buffalo — the  pleasantest 

trip,  the  most  beautiful  scenery,  all  and  everything  so  pleasant ! 

Much  love  to  dear  E and  Elmora,  and  all  who  ask  if  you  have 

heard  from  me.  Tell  Elmora  I  carried  her  flowers  in  my  hand  all 
day,  and  now  they  lie  quietly  in  one  corner  of  my  travelling-bag, 
with  their  sweet  wishes  still  echoing  in  my  heart. 

Good-bye,  dear,  dear  sister !  we  must  meet  soon.  I  have  only 
left  you  for  a  little  while.  God  bless  you  and  yours  ! 

Your  own 

JEANETTE. 

TO  MR.  PLATT. 

BROOKFIEI.D,  28  Sept.  1847. 

The  new  sweet  happiness  that  your  love  gives  me,  ever  causes 
my  heart  to  tremble  with  emotion  too  deep  for  words.  With  grate- 
ful wonder  it  asks,  "Is  this  your  heart,  Jeanette  Hulme  of  other 
days?  Is  this  the  heart  that  'could  not  love?'  that  'love  could 
never  make  happy?'  that  had  never  been  made  happy  by  offered 
love.?"  Oh,  I  am  now- a  full  believer  in  the  existence  and  power 
of  love.  I  now  understand  all  that  the  poets  have  ever  sung  of  its 
sweet  influence ;  more,  all  th^t  the  Sacred  Word  has  declared  of 
its  power.  Is  it  not  God's  highest,  holiest,  best  earthly  gift  to 
man?  In  a  dark  world  ruined  by  sin,  has  it  not  survived  "the 
fall,"  and  lived  to  bless  God's  fallen  children  with  the  sweetest 
joys  that  now  this  earth  can  know?  Oh,  may  that  love  which  He 
has  thus,  given  us  for  each  other,  but  lead  our  hearts  to  Him,  the 
giver  of  the  gift !  Oh,  may  we  day  by  day  remember  His  favor 
only  can  make  the  gift  a  blessing !  Together  may  we  seek  that 
favor ! 

TO  THE  SAME. 

BROOKFIELDj  Sept.  30,   1847. 

It  is  very  pleasant  to  be  again  in  the  midst  of  our  little  circle  of 
dear  ones.  I  enjoy  every  kind  look  and  word,  feel  every  little 
pleasure,  as  never  before.  My  heart  seems  new-strung  and  new- 
tuned  for  joy.  There  is  a  brightness  cast  over  earthly  objects  such 


78  PRECIOUS,  GLORIOUS    PROMISES. 

as  I  have  never  seen  before I  try  to  remember  and 

look  to  the  First  cause  of  all  this  joy.  I  know  that  God  has  ordered 
and  ruled  all  the  changes  of  my  life,  and  would  look  first  to  Him, 
and  then,  trusting  to  His  approval,  hoping  for  His  blessing,  cling, 
as  woman's  love  only  can,  to  the  earthly  object  which  He  has  given 

her.    The  remainder  of  my  life  is  bound  up  in  another 

The  deep  unselfish  interest  which  all  around  me  take  in  my  happi- 
ness, their  pleased  willingness  that  I  should  let  my  heart  dictate  in 
every  future  plan,  their  single  desire  that  their  sister  should  be 
happy.  I  must  feel  this.  It  is  well  for  Jennie  that  this  is  so.  Is 
it  not  another  evidence  of  the  watchful  love  of  Him  who  knows  her 
heart,  and  fits  all  the  little  circumstances  of  her  daily  life  in  accord- 
ance with  the  nature  He  has  given  her?  This  visit  home,  instead 
of  being,  as  I  feared,  painful,  from  so  many  causes,  is  made  so 
comforting,  so  filled  with  sweet  pleasures.  Try  to  be  thankful  for 
me,  try  to  help  me  to  be  more  thankful.  How  slowly  we-  measure 
the  blessings  from  His  hand!  How  coldly  we  count  them  over! 
How  feebly  speak  their  praises !  Blessed  is  that  word  of  promise 
that  speaks  of  One  who  "died  for  our  sins,"  who  knoweth  our 
infirmities,  and  who  "ever  liveth  to  make  intercession  for  us." 
Surely  we  need  His  grace.  Without  Him  we  are  forever  lost; 
with  Him,  His  grace  in  our  hearts,  "there  is  no  more  condemna- 
tion." Our  names  "are  written  in  the  Lamb's  book  of  life,"  and 
we  "shall  never  perish,  neither  shall  any  man  be  able  to  pluck  us 
out  of  His  hand."  For  time,  for  eternity,  we  are  saved.  Beloved 
one,  is  not  the  one  first  object  of  our  future  life  to  be,  seeking  this 
to  be  our  portion  ?  Oh,  let  us  now  and  ever  strive,  day  by  day, 
to  know  and  do  His  will,  who  has  given  us  such  precious,  glorious 
promises  to  win  our  hearts  to  Him. 

Never  think  that  my  happiness  will  require  aught  beside  my  own 
dear  one;  or  that  any  sorrow  or  sickness  can  make  my  heart  turn 
away  from  my  chosen  home.  That  home  is  with  thee  ;  thy  people 
are  to  be  my  people,  my  God  thy  God  ;  "  whither  thou  goest,  I 
will  go;  where  thou  diest,  will  I  die,  and  there  will  I  be  buried." 
I  trust  this  is  Jennie's  love;  she  could  not  love  less,  she  can  give 
no  more. 


MARRIAGE — RETURN    TO    OHIO.  79 

BROOKFIELD,  Oct.  4,  1847. 

Discomfort  and  petty  annoyances  we  must  expect,  wherever  we 
may  be,  under  any  circumstances.  Thorns  will  grow  about  the 
roses;  rainbows  cannot  be  made  without  clouds.  Earthly  care 
and  sorrow  must  follow  us,  increase  upon  us  every  step  we  tread 
in  that  new  life.  Shall  we  turn  back?  Yes,  beloved  one,  if  we 
rely  on  our  own  strength,  far,  far  better.  It  is  God's  grace  that 
must  sweeten  every  care,  that  must  overcome  all  the  evil  that  is  in 
ourselves,  so  that  our  love  for  each  other  shall  always  increase, 
giving  such  peace  and  comfort  as  outward  circumstances  cannot 
disturb.  It  is  the  belief  that  we  know  and  feel  this  that  quiets  my 
trembling  heart,  that  drives  away  dark  doubts,  and  enables  me  to 
continue  true  to  all  my  love  has  promised.  God's  grace  assisting, 
I  will  try  to  be  to  thee  all  that  I  ought.  But,  oh,  how  many  dis- 
appointments thee  will  meet ;  how  many  inconsistencies,  weak- 
nesses, and  infirmities  thee  will  find  in  me! 


The  marriage  took  place  on  Tuesday,  the  gth  of  November,  at 
twelve  o'clock,  in  the  church  of  the  Epiphany,  Philadelphia,  the 
Rector,  Rev.  J.  H.  Fowles,  officiating. 

The  late  Dr.  John  A.  Little,  then  a  medical  student  in  the  city, 
accompanied  the  bridegroom  as  a  friend;,  there  were  no  bride's- 
maids  nor  groomsmen  ;  the  family  assembled  in  the  vestry-room, 
and  all  went  together  into  the  church,  forming  a  group  in  front  of 
the  chancel. 

The  same  day  they  started  for  Ohio,  accompanied  by  Mrs. 
Platt's  younger  sister,  going  by  way  of  Baltimore  and  Pittsburg, 
stopping  at  the  latter  city  a  few  days  to  visit  the  family  of  Mrs. 
Platt's  cousin,  Jas.  S.  Craft,  Esq.,  brother  of  Mrs.  Maccracken, 
of  Lancaster. 

When  they  arrived  in  Delaware,  Mrs.  Platt,  having  turned  from 
the  loved  and  sacred  associations  of  her  eastern  home,  adapted 
herself  with  rare  grace  and  wisdom  to  the  scenes  and  duties  in  the 
new  life  before  her.  Duties  which  were  to  develop  the  charms 
and  excellencies  of  her  earnest  Christian  character,  as  well  as  to 
show  that  the  experiences  of  her  early  life  had  eminently  fitted  her 
for  this  new  sphere  of  usefulness. 


80  DELAWARE — NEW    BLESSINGS. 


VII. 

"Lo,  children  are  a  heritage  of  the  Lord." 

Happiness  of  her  married  life — Birth  of  first  child — Visit  to  Columbus — Rev.  D. 
A.  Tyng — Rev.  Dr.  Canfield  returns  east  with  his  family — Birth  of  second 
child — Pleasant  visit  from  W.  A.  P.  and  wife — Letters  to  her  sister  Martha. 
March,  1848,  to  December,  1850. 

TO  MRS.  REBECCA  HARRISON. 

DELAWARE,  O.,  25  March,  1848. 
DEAR  MOTHER: — 

IT  is  nearly  two  months  since  I  said,  "I  will  write  to  Cousin 
Rebecca  now."  We  have  been  housekeeping  just  that  long,  and 
the  first  thing  I  wanted  to  do  after  we  found  ourselves  in  our  own 
cottage,  was  to  write  to  thee  and  tell  thee  how  I  wanted  to  have 
thee  here,  to  See  how  snugly,  comfortably,  and  nicely  we  were 
fixed.  I  know  thee  would  have  a  mother's  happiness  in  the  home 
of  one  thee  has  so  long,  so  tenderly  loved.  I  can  see  thy  quiet 
smile  in  thy  assurance  of  my  happiness ;  yes,  I  feel  it.  The  same 
hand  Divine,  the  same  grace  that  taught  us  how  to  sorrow  together, 
would  now,  does  now,  enable  us  to  share  in  each  other's  joy. 
Dear  mother,  if  thee  has  ever  asked  for  me  days  of  quiet  peace 
and  happiness,  that  the  gladness  of  youth  might  be  restored,  and 
care  and  sorrow  pass  away,  thy  wish  has  been  fulfilled.  I  know 
thee  will  recognize  the  hand  that  hath  done  this,  and  truly  rejoice, 
even  though  tears  will  mingle.  "He  maketh  sore,  and  bindeth 
up;  He  woundeth,  and  His  hands  make  whole." 

We  often  smile  together  as  we  act  upon  thy  well-remembered 
precept  given  to  me:  "Take  each  pleasure,  and  enjoy  it  as  it 
comes."  So  we  have,  and  few  have  ever  had  sweeter  daily  bless- 
ings than  thy  child.  When  I  wrote  first  to  thee,  the  first  excite- 
ment of  my  new  situation,  with  all  its  trembling  hopes  and  fears 
for  untried  days  and  scenes  before  me,  had  not  passed  away. 
There  were  so  many  mingled  emotions,  I  hardly  knew  how  to 


CONTENTMENT.  8 1 

•  speak  or  feel.     All  that  excitement  has  gone,  and  I  know  how  I 
should  and  do  feel  now. 

What  about  my  little  home,  thee  asks?  I  wish  I  could  send  thee 
a  picture  of  it;  not  that  it  is  so  pretty,  but  that  thee  could,  by 
mind's  eye,  now  and  then  peep  in  and  see  us  just  as  we  are.  It  is 
a  Yankee  cottage,  with  parlor,  dining-room,  kitchen,  and  little 
chambers  (sleeping  rooms,  I  should  say)  all  arranged  on  the  first 
floor.  The  front  door  opens  into  a  short  hall  eight  or  ten  feet 
wide;  by  its  side  is  my  room,  bed,  etc. ;  back  of  that  is  the  parlor, 
and  a  door  from  that  opens  into  a  little  guest  chamber.  Still  back 
of  these  is  a  snug  little  dining-room  and  a  kitchen.  In  the  latter 
is  a  pump  of  hard  water,  and  a  cistern  with  a  pump  of  soft  water, 
with  a  door  opening  into  the  wood-house.  So  thee  sees,  though 
it  is  a  little  house,  it  is  very  convenient.  Oh,  how  I  wish  I  could 
see  thee  at  our  little  table  and  by  our  fireside !  I  have  a  good  girl 
— young,  but  so  willing  and  obliging.  But  what  of  the  husband? 
I  can  only  say  thee  ought  to  see  and  know  him.  Thee  must  some 
day  know  him  and  judge  for  thyse'lf.  He  is  all  that  I  could  ask, 
that  thee,  and  all  who  love  me,  could  desire.  I  felt  this  the  first 
evening  in  our  own  home,  as  we  all  bowed  at  the  family  altar,  and 
tried  to  dedicate  ourselves  and  all  that  we  are  and  have  to  Him 
who  has  so  blessed  us  with  His  favor.  It  is  in  his  own  family  that 
his  true  domestic  character  is  seen  and  felt. 

You  may  think,  dear  mother,  I  dwell  too  much  on  present  joys 
and  comforts,  living  in  a  world  of  change,  where  man  is  born  to 
trouble,  sorrow,  and  death. 

But  is  not  the  future  with  God?  And  will  He  not  prepare  us  for 
all  His  will?  For  all  that  He  sees  necessary  for  us?  I  hope,  I 
trust  in  Him. 

Affectionately  thine 

JEANETTE. 

A  LETTER  WRITTEN  TO  HER  SISTER,  after  the  Birth  of  her  first 
Child,  while  Visiting  her  Sister  Martha. 

Sunday  Afternoon,  September  7,  1848. 
MY  DEAR  SISTER  : — 

I  will  begin  a  letter,  but  Doll  seems  to  be  saying,  in  the  next 
room,  "  it  will  not  be  finished  very  soon."  Just  look  round  Matt's 

little  dining-room.     M has  come  in  from  a  nap  up-stairs,  and 

6 


82  BAPTISM — FIRST   CHILD. 

is  rocking  herself,  watching  Master  Jim  and  his  pranks,  and  talking 
to  her  girl,  who  sits  near  with  the  strange  baby  going  to  sleep  in 
her  lap;  that  is,  if  Jimmy's  running,  driving,  and  boyish  noise  will 
let  her.  Now  he  is  on  the  floor  with  my  little  girl  (nurse),  trying 
for  the  first  time  to  play  with  his  "  builder's  blocks,"  this  rainy  after- 
noon. -M is  talking  baby  to  him  as  fast  and  bright  as  ever,  and 

looks  very  bright  and  happy,  though  she  says  her  old  wrapper  and 
uncombed  hair  are  disorderly  enough.  .  .  .  On  Friday,  just 
after  dinner,  Miss  Doll  and  I  arrived  with  our  wardrobe  to  stay  till 
Monday,  husband's  business  unexpectedly  calling  him  to  Co- 
lumbus for  several  days.  It  has  been  very  pleasant,  though  so 
strange,  to  be  together  again,  and  with  our  babies.  Our  husbands 
being  both  absent,  I  was  often  reminded  of  our  long  baby-house 
plays,  with  our  dolls  and  cradles,  years,  years  ago.  Especially  at 
night,  when  Matt,  with  her  boy-baby  and  crib,  had  one  side  of 
the  bed,  and  Jeanette  and  basket  and  baby  the  other.  But,  dear 
sister,  these  are  the  light  thoughts  and  fancies  that  float  about  these 
new  circumstances.  There  is  deep  reality  felt,  to  begin  life  over 
again  in  the  life  of  a  little  immortal  one,  to  feel  all  that  you  should 
be,  all  that  she  must  be,  your  influence  linked  to  her  for  eternity, — 
these  are  thoughts  that  must  turn  the  soul  to  its  resting-place. 

Last  evening,  about  8  o'clock,  brother  Canfield  returned, 
driving  home  husband's  horse  and  buggy,  leaving  Nell  to  come 
on  Monday  with  Mr.  Platt.  I  will  leave  her  to  tell  you  all  the 
Convention  matters.  Has  she  written  to  you  of  last  Sunday  and 
the  Bishop's  visit?  He  came  on  Saturday  evening,  preached  next 
morning,  baptized  our  little  Ellen  Hulme  in  the  afternoon,  and 

preached  and  confirmed  in  the  evening.     E «•  was  anxious  the 

baptism  should  not  be  postponed,  as  she  wished  brother  C to 

stand  sponsor  with  mother  Lamb  and  herself.  So  she  arranged 
matters,  and  we%rode  to  church,  and  returned  not  much  fatigued. 
Felt  as  if  I  must  be  present  in  the  evening,  and  went,  leaving  baby 
with  nurse.  My  first  absence  (three  hours),  and  baby  not  quite 
five  weeks'  old  !  I  have  so  very  much  to  be  thankful  for  !  My 
whole  sickness  seemed  a  sweet  season  of  new  experiences  of  God's 
mercies.  Why  /so  favored,  so  comforted  on  every  side? — so 
undeserving.  Oh,  my  dear  sister,  whatever  the  untried  future  may 
show  me  of  life's  cares  and  struggles,  I  must  always  look  back  to 
these  past  few  months  as  containing  for  me  greater  happiness, 


COLUMBUS — A  HAPPY  FAMILY.  83 

sweeter  joys,  than  my  words  can  tell.  I  do  not  believe  that  two 
of  Adam's  children,  with  all  their  sins  and  infirmities,  ever  were 
happier  in  each  other  than  your  sister  and  her  stranger  husband 
have  been. 


1849,  January  10.     TO  HER  HUSBAND'S  MOTHER,  at  Columbus, 
on  the  Birth  of  F.  S. 

.  .  .  As  I  am  the  aunty,  on  the  girl  side,  I  write  at  once 
to  offer  heart  and  hand  to  my  new  niece.  I  bespeak  her,  for  N.'s 
special  friend  and  confidante :  she  must  depend  upon  this  younger 
daughter  for  help  in  romps  and  games,  etc. 

I  cannot  be  very  sorry  with  those  who  regret  that  the  "  son  is  a 
girl."  A  woman  is  one  of  the  best  gifts  that  can  be  given  to  this 
world  of  suffering,  though  many  unworthily  bear  the  name ;  so 
give  plenty  of  welcome  to  this  little  girl  on  our  behalf. 

From  a  Letter  to  MRS.  GANFIELD,  written  while  on  a  Visit  to  Columbus. 

• 

COLUMBUS,  November  6,  1849. 
MY  DEAR  SISTER  : — 

I  am  in  sister  Fanny's*  pleasant  quiet  chamber,  which  you,  I 
think,  introduced  to  us  before  we  came  to  Ohio.  Every  visit  that 
I  make  I  think  she  and  her  whole  household  the  happiest  little 
community.  F.  is  certainly  one  of  the  loveliest  women  I  have 
ever  known. 

I  remained  at  home  a  week  after  brother  C left,  expecting 

a  visit  from  niece  Helen  G.  She  did  not  come.  E.  and  I,  with  the 
nurse,  were  packed  by  husband  in  the  stage  for  Columbus.  He 
was  unable  to  bring  us  in  the  private  carriage. 

The  weather  is  the  pleasantest  I  ever  knew  this  season  of  the 
year — warm  sunshine,  with  autumn's  hazy  veil,  that  dimly  softens 
every  pretty  scene.  We  have  ridden  out  nearly  every  day,  and 
"  done  up"  a  great.deal  of  visiting  for  me.  Fanny  is  such  a  gen- 
eral favorite  that  her  friends  share  in  the  universal  good-will  given 
her 

Last  Saturday  afternoon  we  all  went  to  Mr.  J.  W.  A 's  to 

*  The  wife  of  W.  A.  P.,  formerly  Fanny  A.  Hayes,  of  Delaware,  Ohio. 


84  COLUMBUS A    DISCIPLINED    HEART. 

tea, — one  of  the  pleasantest,  most  refined,  and  intelligent  families 
I  have  ever  been  in.  In  the  evening  I  was  with  E.  (would  not 
send  her  home,  nurse  not  knowing  the  way)  in  the  study  up-stairs, 

where  Mrs.  A joined  us,  saying,  "Who  do  you  think  is  down 

stairs?"  Of  course  I  guessed  the  one  I  most  wished  to  see.  "Yes," 
she  said,  and  hurried  down  to  send  him  up. 

Ellie  was  delighted,  and  it  was  all  so  pleasant.  He  had,  though 
tired  with  the  week's  hard  business,  ridden  down  in  beau  fashion 
to  see  his  little  wife  and  baby.  He  went  home  early  yesterday; 
will  come  for  us  the  last  of  this  or  early  next  week. 


TO  HER  HUSBAND. 

November  9,  1849. 

.  What  a  truly  American  family  the  K.'s  are  !  the 
mother  a  fine  specimen  of  an  American  gentlewoman,  yet  knowing 
how  to  do  and  doing  all  kinds  of  household  work,  such  as  cheese 
and  butter-making,  etc.  Accordingly,  the  daughters  are  thor- 
oughly indoctrinated  in  all  kinds  of  kitchen  and  household  duties, — 
an  admirable  plan  for  any,  especially  for  a  Western  family,  where 
"help"  is  such  an  uncertain  commodity.  > 

Tuesday  evening  we  were  invited  to  a  tea-party  at  Mrs.  G 's. 

[Here  follows  a  description  of  the  party.]  Was  much  pleased  with 
Miss  Lizzie  B.  A  few  young  ladies  came  after  tea,  making  our 
number  about  thirty.  Thursday  evening  we  were  invited  to  a 
charade  party  at  Mr.  H.'s.  I  will  describe  this  when  I  get  home. 
Mr.  Tyng  (Dudley)  came  and  took  tea  with  us  that  evening.  He 
never  appeared  to  so  much  advantage  before,  I  thought.  I  went 
to  see  Mrs.  Tyng  yesterday ;  was  much  pleased  with  her. 

And  now  does  dear  husband  think  wife  has  been  so  very,  very 
happy  in  the  midst  of  all  this  round  of  visiting  that  her  quiet  little 
Delaware  home  is  often  out  of  mind  ?  Oh,  no  ;  he  knows  better 
the  heart  that  is  all,  all  his  own.  It  was  not  a  joyous,  girlish  heart, 
that  was  given  him,  that  could  be  dazzled  by  the  seeming  pleasures 
of  such  scenes  ;  but  a  heart  that  had  long  been  disciplined  by  life's 
dull  cares  and  heavy  sorrows  (by  the  grace  of  God,  I  trust,  not  all 
in  vain).  She  gave  herself  to  him,  that  in  him  she  might  find  all 
that  she  gave;  in  seeking  to  make  him  happy,  day  by  day;  the 
full,  deep  happiness  her  own  heart  sought.  She  has  proved  her 


HOME    COMFORTS.  85 

trust,  and  knows  the  pure,  deep  affection,  and  her  own  true  source 
of  earthly  happiness.  Oh,  that  she  could  ever  remember  "the  Giver 
of  every  good  and  perfect  gift!"  that  her  heart  had  some  return 
of  gratitude  !  Oh,  'tis  but  an  ungrateful,  selfish  heart  that  is  all 
your  own,  dear  husband. 

Thy  own 

JENNIE: 

Rev.  Mr.  Canfield  resigned  the  rectorship  of  St.  Peter's  Church, 
Delaware,  in  November,  1849.  ar>d  removed,  with  his  family,  to 
Philadelphia,  and  afterwards  to  New  York. 

TO  E.  H.  CANFIELD. 

DELAWARE  [O.],  December  4,  1849. 
MY  DEAR  BROTHER: — 

.  .  .  .  I  am  now  as  well  and  bright  as  I  was  sick  and  cross 
the  weeks  you  were  with  us.  Must  not  my  health  be  sound,  and 
my  temper  pleasant?  I  had  the  hard  part  to  bear,  however  brother 
and  husband  may  have  suffered.  That  was  a  bad,  bad  cold,  and 
I  felt  miserably  enough.  Our  dining-room  is  so  warm  and  pleasant 
from  the  drum,  E.  and  I  have  moved  in  the  little  settee  and  rock- 
ing-chairs, and  pass  most  of  our  time  here.  Wish  you  could  see 
how  cheerful  and  sunny  it  is,  and  how  happy  and  playful  is  E.,  and 
pleased  and  pleasant  is  her  mother,  and  better  and  nicer  than  any- 
body is  her  father.  Just  now  it  is  a  pleasant  time  at  "our  house." 

From  a  Letter  to  MRS.  REBECCA  HARRISON,  written  the  day  before  the 
birth  of  her  second  child. 

DELAWARE,  Sunday  morning,  May  12,  1850. 

The  sweet  tones  of  our  church  bell  are  wafted  over  the  blossomed 
trees,  and  bright  green  dooryards,  with  their  bursting  buds  and 
flowers  just  opening  into  spring;  and  the  little  birds  are  nestling 
about,  trying  their  first  May-day  songs.  All  nature  seems  so  bright 
and  beautiful  to  the  outward  eye,  as  I  sit  in  my  quiet  chamber, 
reminding  of  that  eternal  Sabbath  of  rest,  when  from  all  nations 
and  people  shall  be  gathered  the  Redeemed  of  the  Lord,  and  all 
shall  together  sit.  down  to  "the  marriage  supper  of  the  Lamb." 


86  A   SNUG   LITTLE    DINNER. 

Shall  not  we  be  there,  beloved  one, — mother  still,  ever,  in  all  the 
kind  affections  of  thy  absent  relative's  heart?  My  beloved  husband 
has  just  left  me  for  church,  and  little  daughter  has  been  sent  away, 
that  some  moments  of  this  quiet  hour  may  be  passed  with  thee. 
How  seldom  we  by  outward  means  'converse  with  each  other ! 
How  very  long  it  is  since  I  have  heard  one  word  from  thee !  Yet 
I  know  how  often  thy  affectionate  thoughts  have  crossed  these 
mountains,  and  rested  on  me,  my  husband,  and  my  child.  I 
know,  without  a  doubt,  that  everything  concerning  me  is  dear  in 

interest  to  thee I  feel  this  morning  that  I  am  giving 

almost  my  last  time  to  thee,  and  yet  the  "dread  and  fear"  come 
not  with  the  thought.  I  seem  content  to  lie  in  my  Heavenly 
Father's  hands,  believing  all  will  be  well  for  me,  my  husband,  and 

my  child 

Through  my  Saviour's  blood  that  alone  can  cover  my  guilt,  and 
His  prevailing  righteousness  that  alone  can  find  me  acceptance 
with  God,  I  trust  all  will  be  eternally  well  with  me,  whatever  may 
be  my  Heavenly  Father's  will.  "The  blood  of  Jesus  Christ 
cleanseth  from  all  sin." 

With  sincere  affection, 

Thy  JEANETTE. 

To  HER  HUSBAND,  while  he  was  at  Dayton  attending  the  Episcopal 
Convention. 

Ii£  P.  M.,  Tuesday,  September  24,  1850. 

.  The  idea  that  Mr.  French  can  so  nicely  take  a  line 
has  just  dawned  upon  my  mind.  I  do  not  think  I  shall  like  keep- 
ing house  without  my  husband  at  all William  and 

Fanny  came  at  the  appointed  hour — one  o'clock.  It  was  one  of 
the  brightest,  nicest  little  visits  ever  had  from  them — only  you  were 
not  here.  W.  seemed  to  regret  this  much.  He  drove  down  to  the 
hotel,  leaving  his  horses  and  carriage,  and  returned  bringing  Mr. 
Burchard,  who  happened  here  on  his  way  to  Columbus.  He  had 
dined,  but  sat  down  with  us.  A  snug  little  dinner — husband's 
ham  and  grapes  much  praised.  H.  was  napping  up  stairs  when 
Fanny  came,  did  not  wake  and  make  his  appearance  till  during 
dinner;  was  praised  enough  to  satisfy  even  me — "a  noble,  lovely 
boy."  But  your  darling  N.  was  a  great  object  of  attraction,  "so 


THE    HAPPIEST   WOMAN.  87 

changed,  so  pretty,"  "so  picture-like,  with  her  little  curly  head." 
She  took  at  once  to  her  pretty  aunty,  and  her  pretty  little  baby, 
and  loved  "the  baby,  baby,"  almost  as  she  does  her  little  brother; 
sat  on  Fanny's  lap  to  look  at  pictures,  etc.  F.'s  baby  is  one  of 
the  brightest  little  ones  for  two  months  I  have  ever  seen — a  lovely 
little  bud  of  her  pretty  mother. 

DELAWARE,  September  26,  1850. 

MY  OWN  DEAR  HUSBAND 

i 

Will  not  complain  that  he  gets  letters  too  often,  even  if  they  are 
not  worth  much 

N.  was  tired  and  sleepy  on  my  lap,  when  her  little  brother  cried 
to  come,  too.  We  could  not  make  him  comfortable  with  her  there. 
She  could  not  bear  to  go ;  when  I  told  her  how  it  was  she  slipped 
down  of  her  own  accord,  looking  so  lovely  and  happy  in  this  her 
first  effort  to  give  up  her  own  comfort  for  another's  good.  I  have 
never  distinctly  seen  before  the  yielding  of  her  selfish  nature  as 
was  plain  there.  Oh,  that  our  prayers  may  daily  follow  her  infant 
steps,  and  hallow  all  the  life  she  is  with  us! — that  a  heavenly  prin- 
ciple may  be  even  now  given  her  in  her  first  days  !  Here,  dear 
husband,  is  our  only  strength.  When  I  think  of  the  fountain  of 
wisdom  and  strength  that  is  ever  open  to  us,  for  us  to  draw  from, 
I  feel  sure  that  even  our  children  may  be  brought  up,  in  all  things, 
"  in  the  way  they  should  go."  Our  very  weakness  and  ignorance 
in  ourselves  may  be  thus  our  strength  in  the  Lord. 

"The  boy,"  too,  is  so  lovely  all  the  daylong.  With  such  a 
husband,  and  such  children,  surely,  surely  I  should  be  the  happiest 
woman  !  Am  not  I  ?  Who  is  happier? 

TO  MRS.  CANFIELD. 

[DELAWARE],  Sunday  Morning,  December  22,  1850. 

I  have  laid  down  "the  little  book"  and  its  companion,  and 
have  been  sitting  here  in  our  quiet  little  parlor,  wondering  if  I 
should  do  wrong  to  write  to  you  to-day,  my  own  precious  sister  ! 
"  Sweet  counsel"  we  have  taken  together  in  years  past,  talking 
away  many  an  hour  of  holy  time,  and  enjoying  communion  of  heart 
and  mind,  thought  and  feeling,  as  few  sisters  have  done,  I  think. 


88  TURNING   A   CROOK. 

May  we  not  do  so  now,  though  rivers  and  mountains  are  between  ? 
We  are  not  separated,  only  cannot  seem  to  see  face  to  face,  that  is 
all.  Blessed  thought,  we  can  never  be  separated  !  We  dwell  in 
the  same  Father's  house,  are  daily  fed  and  sustained  by  the  same 
Heavenly  hand  ;  and  soon,  through  the  riches  of  His  grace,  "equal 
to  the  angels,"  shall  dwell  together  forever  and  ever 

This  is  the  busiest  portion  of  life  I  have  ever  seen.  We  are  turn- 
ing a  little  crook,  dear  husband  and  I,  just  now.  No  doubt  better 
times  are  beyond,  but  they  are  not  to  be  seen  as  yet.  .  .  .  I  cannot 
say  that  I  desire  to  remove  East,  for  I  dare  not  take  the  responsi- 
bility of  deciding  where  it  is  best  for  me  and  my  children  to  dwell. 
I  only  pray  that  we  may  ever  clearly  see  and  follow,  as  did  Israel 
of  old,  heavenly  counsel;  journeying  and  resting,  just  as  the  cloud 
of  God's  presence  covers  us  and  goes  before  us  (Num.  9).  "If  we 
should  ever  remove  to  any  place,  and  so  clearly  see  by  the  com- 
forts that  come  upon  us  that  we  are  right,  as  may  brother  C 

and  Mattie  now,"  said  1  to  Mr.  P.,  when  reading  your  letters;  but 
the  words  died  from  my  lips,  as  I  remembered  that  "the  sorrow 
of  your  life"  had  met  you  just  there. 

My  health  is  very  good I  take  all  the   out-door 

exercise  I  can,  though  it  is  but  little.  He  who  lays  upon  us  our 
burdens,  fits  us  for  them.  1  should  never  have  thought  that  I  could 
bear  the  care  and  confinement  as  I  have  done  this  winter,  indeed 

this  whole  year,  I  may  say Do  not  grieve  over  any- ' 

thing  said,  knowing  the  hand  that  has  guided  my  path  only 
measures  out  just  what  we  need  in  infinite  love 


VISIT   TO    NEW   YORK.  89 


VIII. 

"  My  presence  shall  go  with  thee  and  I  will  give  thee  rest." 

Trip  to  New  York — Spends  the  summer  in  New  York,  Philadelphia,  and  New 
Jersey — Lines  fallen  in  pleasant  places — Heaven  is  our  home — Cannot  love  each 
other  too  much,  but  must  love  God  supremely.  May  to  September,  1851. 

MAY  ayth  Mrs.  Platt  went  to  New  York,  in  company  with  Mrs. 
Judge  Williams,  taking  the  two  children,  E.  and  H.  (three  years 
and  one  year  old),  to  visit  her  sister,  Mrs.  Canfield.  Mr.  Canfield 
was  then  rector  of  St.  Peter's  Church,  New  York. 

FROM  HER  FIRST  LETTER  TO  HER  HUSBAND. 

NEW  YORK,  May  29,  1851. 

Mrs.  Williams,  I  believe,  telegraphed  to  Delaware  this  morning, 
so  you  already  have  learned  of  our  safe  arrival  yesterday  at  3^ 
o'clock,  instead  of  early  in  the  morning,  as  you  and  we  expected. 
"  The  Empire"  lake  boat  lost  time  in  giving  us  a  safe  trip,  through 
rain  and  fog,  Monday  night;  so  that  made  us  later  than  usual  in 
reaching  Albany.  [Here  they  were  detained  and  had  to  take  a 
slow  boat  to  New  York.  The  H.  R.  R.  R.  was  not  then  built.] 

We  drove  to  Judkin's  Hotel,  Mrs.  Williams  sent  for  Henry  B., 
a  carriage  was  engaged  for  me,  and  soon  we  were  driving  past  the 
church  and  parsonage.  I  knew  the  church  and  saw  Canfield  on 
the  door-plate,  so  stopped  the  driver,  at  the  same  instant  saw  E. 
running  down  the  steps  and  Martha  sitting  at  the  chamber  win- 
dow, having  been  wild  in  exclamations  that  "our  poor  Jeanette 
was  riding  by!  stop  her!  stop  her!"  I  will  pass  over,  dear  hus- 
band, the  meeting,  the  kissing,  and  all  the  baby  greetings.  In  all, 
in  everything,  how  much,  how  very  much,  I  missed  your  presence. 
Mrs.  Williams  told  me  plainly  I  should  not  say  anything  of  this 


90  NEW   YORK — JENNY    LIND. 

to  the  Canfields,  when  they  would  be  so  rejoiced  to  see  me;  so  I 
tried  to  be  good  and  forget  I  had  "a  gude  man"  far,  far  away. 

The  house  is  so  nice — everything  is  comfortable,  brother  C.  and 
M.  so  very  kind,  Martha  full  of  consideration,  as  she  always  was; 
had  a  nurse  engaged  and  already  in  the  house,  whose  work  she 
made  it  to  take  the  entire  charge  of  me  and  my  children,  wash, 
iron,  and  keep  my  room  in  order.  Brother  C.  said  I  should  have 
all  comfort  and  freedom  in  my  visit — that  it  was  no  more  than  dutv 
to  try  to  pay  back  old  debts  for  the  baby  trottings  I  had  given 
Master  James,  etc.  etc.  So  I  found  there  was  no  use  to  object  to 
their  increased  expenses. 

Aunt  Peggy  is  here — talks  of  going  home  soon.  How  happy 
we  all  are  to  be  thus  together  I  cannot  tell.  M.  says,  "  tell  brother 
P.  I  am  so  much  obliged  to  him  for  sending  Jeanette  and  babies 
here."  Brother  C.  went  out  yesterday  morning  and  purchased 
tickets  to  a  Jenny  Lind  concert  of  sacred  music,  and  took  us  all  to 
Castle  Garden  in  the  afternoon.  This  is  why  I  did  not  get  my 
letter  off  in  the  first  mail  after  my  arrival.  You  will  excuse,  I 
know,  for  hearing  Jenny  sing  instead  of  your  hearing  Jeannie  talk, 
though  I  hope  you  will  always  like  the  talker  best. 

Now,  as  to  the  journey — how  the  children  behaved,  etc.  They 
were  as  good  as  children  could  be  under  the  circumstances.  The 
night  we  were  in  the  cars  will  not  soon  be  forgotten.  I  was  so 
anxious  lest  H.  should  have  an  attack  of  croup.  It  rained  in  tor- 
rents ;  the  heat  and  impure  air  was  stifling  insi.de,  yet  the  rain  and 
damps,  poured  in  too  much  if  the  least  crack  was  open.  But  all 
was  "well."  E.  slept  all  the  time — did  not  even  wake  up  when 
carried  at  midnight  nearly  a  square  in  the  rain  "changing  cars." 
H.,  too,  was  just  himself,  so  good  and  attractive  to  every  one;  and 
your  wife,  "if  I  must  say  it,"  won  praise  all  around.  I  began  to 
think  other  folks  thought  she  was  a  "good  mother,"  whatever  kind 
of  wife  she  might  be. 

I  must  tell  you: — when  we  were  sitting  in  the  cars  in  the  dark 
depot  at  Albany,  waiting  for  Mr.  W.  to  come  and  get  us  out,  in 
the  crowd  of  passengers  that  streamed  by  us,  stopped  a  handsomely 
dressed  old  gentleman  from  one  of  the  front  cars,  where  we  had 
been  part 'of  the  night;  "Madam,"  he  said,  without  turning  his 
face  towards  us,  but  stopping  at  the  end  of  our  seat,  "  I  must  give 
commendation."  (Speaking  slowly  and  distinctly),  "Of  all  the 


A   LOVING    MOTHER.  9! 

ladies  I  have  ever  seen  travel  with  children  you  excel!"  and  on 
he  went,  before  I  had  time  to  recover  in  the  least  from  my  surprise. 
We  had  never  noticed  him,  and  I  scarcely  know  what  he  meant, 
unless  he  thought  I  was  very  patient  when  trying  for  so  long  a  time 
to  get  the  babies  to  sleep.  They  were  worn  out  with  the  day's 
railroad  jarring,  and  would  not  compose  to  sleep.  I  made  a  bed 
on  two  seats  facing  each  other,  and  sat  for  hours,  indeed  all  night, 
on  the  floor  between  them,  patting  first  this,  and  then  that  one,  as 
they  stirred.  But  I  was  much  too  anxious  not  to  feel  patient  and 
forgetful  of  self.  There  was  no  sacrifice  of  feeling  at  all;  I  was 
all  the  time  trying  to  rest  my  care  upon  the  Almighty  arm  beneath 
us.  I  was,  dear  husband,  greatly  indebted  to  you  for  the  helps  of 
that  night.  I  took  your  pennies,  as  Ellie  calls  them,  and  paid  for 
a  good  supper  at  Syracuse,  when  many  went  without  any.  I  knew 
I  must  eat  if  I  would  be  able  to  worry  with  my  babies  all  night, 
and  that  you  would  say  this,  whatever  the  cost  might  be. 

[This  was  before  the  comfort  of  sleeping  cars  was  known.] 

Thursday  Evening,  June  5,  1851. 
MY  OWN  DEAR  HUSBAN-D  :  — 

It  is,  indeed,  "cheering  news"  to  say  "we  have  a  letter!" 
Yours  came  this  afternoon,  so  full  of  comfort,  kindness,  and  every 
good  thing  for  your  wife.  Oh,  I  do  always  feel  as  if  I  were  so 
much  too  poor  a  wife  for  you  to  have.  May  our  separation  be 
indeed  blessed  and  sanctified  to  our  souls'  health  !  Pray  for  me, 
that  my  heart  may  be  kept  in  "peace"  and  "quietness"  in  the 
midst  of  the  excitement  of  city  life.  Pray  for  me.  God  bless  and 
keep  our  beloved  children  !  I  will  try  to  watch  over  them,  feeling 
that  I  am  to  be  both  father  and  mother 

It  is  hard  to  be  from  your  side,  dear  love,  who  are  more  than 
all  others  to  me ;  but  I  am  not  unhappy.  It  is  so  very  pleasant 
to  be  again  one  of  this  old  sisterhood,  and  have  around  me  the 
voices,  and  see  the  faces  that  have  looked  upon  me  since  my  in- 
fancy. Being  married  has  sobered,  more  than  dampened,  the  joy 

of  being  together 

Your  not  "half  good  enough"  wife, 

JENNIE. 


92  REV.    DR.    TYNG. 

Tuesday  Morning. 

.  .  .  .  While  we  are  all  blessed  with  perfect  health,  our 
separation  from  each  other  must  not  be  a  subject  of  complaint, 
should  it,  dear  husband?  Every  lot  has  its  "crooks,"  every 
family  has  its  troubles,  every  condition  in  life  its  difficulties.  Com- 
pared with  all  I  see  and  know  of  others,  I  must  say,  "The  lines 
have  fallen  to  us  in  pleasant  places  !"  Our  losses  in  earthly  wealth 
have  never  in  the  least  diminished  our  happiness ;  so  that,  though 
poor,  yet  have  we  been  very  rich  !  Oh,  that  we  could  more  simply, 
more  singly  in  all  our  steps,  "  seek  first  the  kingdom  of  God  and 
His  righteousness."  Then  God's  blessing,  "  which  maketh  rich, 
and  He  addeth  no  sorrow  with  it,"  would  follow  us  all  our  life, 
and  bring  us  all  at  last  safely  to  our  eternal,  heavenly  home!  Let 
us,  then,  try  to  pray  one  for  the  other.  Would  that  I  was  to  you 
all  that  I  ought  to  be,  my  own  chosen  husband  !  All  that  I  should 
be  !  I  who  have  been  learning  so  many,  many  years,  under  the 
Heavenly  Teacher.  Yet  what  know  I?  What  am  I  but  a  monu- 
ment of  the  forbearance  and  goodness  of  "  the  Covenant  God." 

NEW  YORK,  June  16,  1851. 

Sister,  brother,  and  I  walked  over  to  Dr.  Tyng's  church.  How 
I  want  you  to  go  there  and  hear  and  see  him.  Your  wife  owes 
much  to  him  ;  more  instruction  than  from  any  other  human  teacher. 
His  sermon  was  to  the  young,  and  my  mind  was  carried  back  to 
years  ago,  when  an  uninstructed,  light-hearted  girl  sat  before  him, 
receiving  (through  Divine  influence,  I  trust)  with  such  eagerness 
the  blessed  truths  of  "the  glorious  Gospel"  which  he  taught.  I 
had  not  heard  him  before  yesterday  for  many  years.  He  was  just 
the  same,  surrounded  by  one  of  the  most  fashionable  congregations, 
and  with  crowds  around  him  of  attentive  listeners,  as  when  he  was 
minister  of  the  little  flock  of  Epiphany  (Philadelphia),  with  only 
twelve  communicants.  I  met  him  at  the  door  of  the  vestry-room, 
and  he  was  very  glad  to  see  me.  He  and  every  one  exclaims, 
"  How  well  you  look;  not  a  day  older."  So  much  for  the  good 
care  taken  of  your  wee  wife.  He  said  he  would  come  out  and  take 
tea  with  us  Monday  evening. 

J.  H.  P. 


A    LESSON    FULLY   LEARNED.  93 

NEW  YORK,  Friday  Morning,  June  27,  1851. 
MY  DEAR  HUSBAND  : — 

I  feel  so  very  sorry  there  has  been  so  much  delay  in  my  letters, 
that  you  have  so  often  to  look  in  vain  for  them.  I  trust  this  will 
not  be  again.  Yours,  mailed  June  2jd,  came  yesterday.  I  cannot 
tell  how  your  letters  are  received,  or  what  your  wife  thinks  of 
them, — their  value  to  her.  If  you  knew  all  this  I  am  sure  you 
would  be  fully  repaid  for  sending  tl»em.  She  always  cries  over 
them,  I  will  tell  you  that.  You  ask  me,  dear  love,  to  tell  you  all 
my  heart,  "  all  I  think"  from  day  to  day.  It  would  be  such  a  poor 
story  of  one  thing  over  and  over:  "I  miss  you,  I  miss  you  so 
much."  This  is  one  reason  I  have  written  so  seldom,  and  my  let- 
ters have  been  so  lifeless  and  dull.  I  have  not  written  all  my 
heart.  You  were  giving  up  so  much  home  comfort  in  sparing  so 
long  away  from  you  your  little  ones  and  wife,  that  I  could  not 
bear  to  have  you  know  how  little  of  happiness  it  was  procuring  for 
her.  And  yet  you  always  said  this  would  be  so,  did  you  not? 
'Tis  just  so,  dear  husband.  I  am  not,  cannot  be,  happy  away  from 
your  arms,  my  own  rightful  place  and  home.  I  cannot.  I  do  try. 
For  your  sake,  because  of  your  sacrifice,  I  have  tried. 

Now,  dear  love,  do  not  regret  this  experiment,  as  paying  out  so 
much  for  nothing.  It  is  not  so.  Perhaps  none  of  us  would  ever 
have  been  entirely  satisfied  if  this  trial  had  not  been  made.  It 
will  never  have  to  be  repeated.  The  lesson  is  fully  learned,  "Whom 
God  hath  joined  together  let  no  man  put  asunder."  For  my  own 
pleasure,  or  for  the  pleasure  of  others,  separation  from  you  will 
not  be  asked  again.  I  do  not  say  this  to  my  sisters  (I  did  not  wish 
to  say  it  to  you).  I  want  to  be  just  as  happy  as  I  can,  for  they  are 
very  kind ;  but  I  know  they  all  guess  this,  though  they  cannot 
know  how  half-hearted  I  feel,  or  how  little  I  enjoy  anything  I  see. 
.  .  .  .  I  would  rather  be  with  the  children,  hear  our  N. 
prattle,  and  H.  laugh  and  crow,  than  see  all  the  sights  New  York 
can  produce. 

H.  has  two  teeth  !  tell  grandma.  You  would  be  quite  satisfied 
with  the  admiration  he  excites,  "the  noble  boy,"  and  the  notice 
Miss  N.  gets,  "  the  curly-headed  wee  girl."  They  seem  quite  well 
now,  but  the  heat  is  getting  so  great  that  I  am  anxious  to  leave 
soon.  Sister  went  back  to  Brookfield  yesterday 

Bishop  Burgess  and  Dr.  Dyer  dined  with  us  yesterday. 


94  BURLINGTON DEAR    FRIENDS. 

BURLINGTON,  N.  J.,  July  7,  1851. 

On  Saturday  morning  last  we  left  New  York  in  the  8  o'clock 
Amboy  cars,  and  arrived  here  at  noon 

Well,  here  we  are  in  old  Burlington.  Oh,  how  I  wished  for  you  ; 
how  I  do  wish  for  you,  your  voice,  your  heart,  your  arms,  dear 
love  !  Here,  amid  these  old  scenes,  where  your  wife  romped  and 
played  in  childish  days,  and  walked,  and  talked,  and  lived  her 
girlhood  hours.  I  want  the  quiet  smile,  the  gentle  ways,  the  loving 
heart,  of  my  choice.  How  great  would  be  the  pleasure  if  you  were 
only  with  me  !  It  is  so  pleasant  to  visit  again  these  old  scenes. 

HULMEVILLE,  July  13,   1851. 

"  I  stood  up  on  both  feet,  and  climbed  on  top  of  the  stool,  dear 
papa,"  H.  would  like  to  say  to  you,  dear  husband.  This  was  done 
to-day,  just  as  I  was  telling  cousin  R.  that,  though  he  could  be 
stood  in  a  corner,  and  stand  alone,  yet  he  never  attempted  to  use 
his  feet  before 

My  visit  to  Mount  Holly  proved  a  very  pleasant  one.  They  all 
so  much  want  to  know  my  husband.  I  have  promised  them  at 
least  a  call  from  him,  with  his  wife.  The  Burlington  visit  was  so 
delightful ! — everybody  so  glad  to  see  me.  Thee  must  know  these 
kind  and  dear  relatives.  Indeed,  dear  husband,  do  let  me  have 
some  time  of  thine  for  thee  to  see  and  know  my  friends,  when  thee 
comes.  When  will  that  be?  How  I  long  to  be  once  more  in  my 
old  place  !  The  time  seems  very  long  since  I  left,  though  it  is 
now  passing  very  happily. 

Sunday  Morning. 

.  .  .  .  How  has  passed  this  Sabbath  with  you,  dear  hus- 
band ?  I  feel  as  if  in  spirit  we  have  been  much  together.  Oh, 
how  blessed  is  the  thought  that  we  are  "  one"  in  the  faith  of  the 
Gospel;  that  we  are  one  for  eternity;  that  heaven  is  our  home,  our 
eternal  home;  that  our  union  here  is  but  to  help  prepare  and  bring 
us  to  that  home  !  God  grant  us  His  grace  !  His  help  be  with  us 
through  all  our  earthly  days,  and  safely  bring  us  and  ours  to 
heaven  at  last  !• 


BROOKFIELD — NOT  A  DAY  OLDER.  95 

BROOKFIELD,  July  23,  1851. 

I  have  just  been  sitting  in  the  very  parlor — in  the  same  spot — 
where  we  sat  side  by  side  four  years  ago  ! — with  hearts  full  of  hopes 
and  fears,  the  future  all  untried,  our  mutual  love  all  untested,  and 
many  tender  mercies  of  our  Covenant  God  all  unknown.  We 
were  strangers  to  each  other  then,  dear  love,  compared  with  now. 
What  rich  blessings  were  before  us  1  How  freely  have  they  been 
measured  out  to  us  in  our  love  for  each  other,  and  in  the  gift  and 
enjoyment  of  our  dear  children !  God  has  blessed  us !  I  will  say, 
we  have  been,  are  rich.  Happiness  is  wealth  so  great,  so  rare,  that 
few  possess  it.  It  is  ours.  Oh,  that  "the  blessing  of  the  Lord" 
might,  as  it  is  designed,  "lead  us  to  repentance." 

I  have  finished  my  journey  home,  and  now  we  are  "over  the 
mountains,"  E.  says,  "all  at  Aunt  Sarah's  house."  Both  children 
seem  half  wild  with  delight  to  get  where  there  is  so  much  room. 
H.  creeps  around  our  large  room,  and  Nell  races  around  the 
house — flits  about  among  the  trees  "like  a  wee  fairy,"  they  say. 
From  the  first  night  she  has  taken  a  great  fancy  to  Aunt  Sarah. 

On  Monday  we  left  Hulmeville  with  John,  and  drove  to  Capt. 
Hutchinson's  beautiful  home  near  Bristol;  here  we  stayed  Monday 
night.  Early  Tuesday  morning  John,  N.,  and  I  went  in  boat  to 
Trenton,  dined  with  my  old  schoolmate,  Hannah  B.,  and  was  met 
by  Mr.  H.  (our  host)  in  the  carriage  on  Bristol  wharf  at  4.30  P.  M. 
This  morning  we  all  came  to  Philadelphia,  dined  with  Mrs.  Char- 
lotte C.,  and  came  up  in  the  3  o'clock  cars,  and  arrived  in  this  old 
home  once  more  at  5  o'clock.  Charlotte  was  delighted  to  see  us. 

I  begin  to  think,  dear  husband*  that  you  have  a  right  good- 
looking  wife;  she  must  be  so,  from  all  I  hear  about  her.  "  Why, 
Jeanette,"  Lottie  exclaimed,  "not  a  day  older,  I  declare! — a  bit 
younger,  if  anything;  age  twenty,  I  should  think!  I  need  not  ask 
you  if  you  have  been  happy  in  your  distant  home,  away  from  all 
your  family;  your  face  answers  that  question  fully.  And  what 
kind  of  a  husband  you  have,  too." 

Friday  morning. — Here,  dear  husband,  where  you  slept,  in  the 
guest-chamber  of  your  love-dreams,  sits  your  wife  Jennie.  The 
morning  is  charming.  We  had  a  restless  night  with  H.,  but  a  ride 
this  morning  has  cured,  almost,  the  boy,  and  refreshed  greatly  the 
mother.  Her  heart  cannot  be  fully  cheered  until  its  mate,  its  better 


96  TRUE   CONJUGAL   AFFECTION. 

part,  shall  come.  I  feel  now  that  the  time  is  near,  is  it  not,  dear 
husband?  We  do  all  so  long  to  see  you;  not  that  I  want  to  shorten 
my  visit — my  friends  will  not  consent  to  that — but  cannot  you  make 
arrangements  to  stop  all  work  and  recruit  awhile?  Do  try  and 
spare  us  a  good  long  visit 

I  feel  as  if  we  must  talk  together  this  quiet  Sabbath  morning. 
Your  letter  came  to  my  hand  yesterday,  dearest.  Call  it  what 
name  you  may,  it  is  very  precious  to  your  wife,  each  and  every 
part — the  "cross"  and  all  other  "moods"  of  its  writer,  only  feel- 
ingly, thoughtfully  showing  the  devoted  love  of  his  heart.  You 
shall  not  speak  lightly  of,  or  scold,  these  letters.  They  are  mine, 
are  from  my  husband,  who  is  perfectly  understood  as  he  is  dearly 
loved 

H.'s  heart  will  never  forget  his  father,  even  if  his  tongue  cannot 
remember  his  name.  It  will  take  but  a  moment  to  recall  him,  I  am 
sure.  Mary  says  he  still  calls  "papa,  papa,"  often 

I  try  not  to  anticipate  our  meeting.  This  separation  is  so  long, 
it  is  so  hard  to  be  apart  from  thee  and  thy  tender,  loving  heart,  my 
own  dear  husband.  I  fear  we  shall  both  look  forward  expecting 
too  much  in  our  longed-for  reunion.  We  cannot  love  each  other 
too  much;  I  know  this.  The  Bible  everywhere  sanctions  deepest, 
devoted  conjugal  affection,  comparing  such  love  to  that  with  which 
"Christ  loved  the  Church" — dying  for  it.  But  we  must  love  our 
God  supremely,  love  each  other  in  Him  as  His,  seeking  His  glory 
in  and  through  our  love.  We  must  never  expect  too  much  of 
earthly  happiness.  It  is  here  I  fear  we  shall  err  in  our  expected 
meeting.  This  is  never  promised  the  children  of  God;  but  they 
are  constantly  told  of  sorrow,  disappointments,  "tribulations,"  that 
shall  follow  their  steps.  They  must  be  disturbed  and  thwarted  in 
every  dream  and  scheme  of  earthly  enjoyment,  or  else  they  would 
never  turn  with  longing  eyes  to  "that  better  country"  they  profess 
to  seek.  Oh,  let  us  ever  remember  this.  We  have  all  been  merci- 
fully spared  in  health  so  far,  but  the  future  is  only  with  God,  hid 
from  us.  In  what  sorrow  might  be  our  meeting!  How  sweet 
is  dear  brother's  oft-repeated  petition,  "Choose  for  us  all  our 
changes."  May  this  be  the  prayer  of  our  hearts;  then  shall  we 
be  prepared  alike  for  joy  or  woe.  Does  this  all  seem  strange  to 
you,  dear  love?  Life  has  taught  me  this.  I  want  to  try  to  live 
day  by  day,  and  hour  by  hour.  I  have  long  tried  to  do  this. 


A    WHOLE   WOMAN.  97 

And  how  many  mercies  have  followed  me !  How  bright  and  happy 
has  been  my  daily  path  since  cheered  by  your  fond  love,  my  dear- 
est, earthly  gift ! 

[Mrs.  B.,  one  of  the  ladies  who  has  rendered,  valuable  assistance  in  this  work, 
says  of  this  letter:    "  I  think  this  is  one  of  the  loveliest  letters  I  have  ever  read."] 


TO  MRS.  J.  MURRAY. 

BROOKFIELD,  July  29,  1851. 

I  wonder  if  I  shall  be  believed  when  I  say  the  quiet  speaking, 
friendly  face  of  one  I  do  love,  has  flitted  before  me  so  very  often 
since  I  left  my  Western  home.  I  believe  I  have  compared  her  with 
every  nice  body  I  have  met,  and  she  has  not  suffered  one  bit.  I  think 
she  is  the  most  whole  woman  among  them  all.  You  may  think  me 
a  poor  judge,  and  so  we  may  not  agree.  But  I  shall  not  yield  my 
opinion  even  to  you. 

Now,  after  truthfully  telling  the  above,  I  need  not  say  I  have 
wished  often  to  find  a  moment  to  write  to  you.  The  moment  would 
not  come  until  we  were  settled  in  the  house,  closets,  and  drawers 
of  our  family  home.  Is  this  home,  think  you?  You  know  well  it 
is  only  a  pleasant  resting  place  for  the  body.  I  am  less  than  half 
here.  I  cannot  help  it, — cannot  help  being  only  half  happy  when 
everybody  is  doing  their  best  to  make  me  altogether  so. 

It  is  delightful,  more  pleasant  than  I  can  tell,  much  more  than  I 
expected,  to  get  back  again,  and  have  these  dear  old  family  faces 
around  me.  I  tell  them  so,  not  adding  what  my  heart  will  always 
say,  "If  we  were  only  all  here." 

How  I  wish  you  were  here,  the  country  is  so  beautiful.  When 
will  your  visiting  time  come?  Come  it  will,  I  know.  Your  whole 
life  is  not  to  be  one  sowing  for  others'  good  without  any  reaping 
time  for  yourself.  See  if  a  good  time  is  not  coming  when  you 
shall  be  as  rich  as  wise.  How?  Oh,  I  cannot  tell  how.  It  is 
only  for  me  to  tell  I  feel  it  must  be  so.  I  mean  rich  in  \\\&poor  but 
convenient  kind  of  riches.  You  are  rich  now  in  the  best  of  riches, 
I  hope.  Wealth  is  not  happiness,  but  is  not  happiness  wealth  ? 

When  any  one  asks  concerning  my  Western  possessions,  I  tell 
the  old  story,  how  happy  I  have  been  there.     I  have  not  seen  two 
people  "better  off"  than  Mr.  P.  and  I. 
7 


98  ROCK   OF   AGES. 

"  Do  I  not  wish  to  live  here?"  I  should  like  to  be  near  these 
early  friends.  In  times  of  sickness  who  can  take  the  place  of  fami- 
liar faces  and  voices  that  have  spoken  about  one  from  infancy ! 
But  so  far  we  have  been  preserved  from  sickness,  or  any  real  afflic- 
tion, while  the  "  hand  of  God  has  been  heavy"  upon  many  of 
these  dear  families  who  have  "suffered  as  Christians."  We  shall 
be  comforted  on  every  side,  and  helped  in  every  time  of  need,  if 
our  strength  and  hope  are  rightly  placed  on  the  "  Rock  of  Ages," 
live  where  we  may. 

How  I  wish  you  could  hear  the  sweet  songs  these  little  home 
birds  are  giving  us.  If  seems  as  if  the  five  years'  practice  had 
truly  made  them  perfect  in  the  art  of  song. 

Our  old  cook  says,  "Everything  and  everybody  is  glad  to  see 
you."  I  tell  you  this  that  you  may  not  be  sorry  for  having  given 
yoilr  help  and  kind  wishes  in  getting  Jeanette  and  her  children  off. 

Very  affectionately  your  friend, 

J.  H.  P. 

[She  returned  home  with  her  husband  from  this  visit  in  Sep- 
tember, and  wrote  the  following  letter  to  her  sister  S.  : — ] 

DELAWARE,  September,  1851. 

This  is  only  to  tell  you  we  arrived  safely  on  Tuesday  afternoon. 
The  journey  was  extremely  fatiguing  to  me.  E.  was  so  good  and 
patient,  but  H.  was  all  unrest  for  "Mary!  my  Mary!" — holding 
up  his  little  hands  toward  the  window,  begging  to  be  taken  out. 
Poor  baby,  how  he  will  miss  his  own  Mary  [nurse],  and  all  the  loving 
faces  that  always  smiled  on  him  !  Not  more  than  his  mother.  Oh, 
my  dear  sister,  I  cannot  tell  you,  you  will  never  know  here  how 
sweet  will  be  the  pleasure  of  remembering  this  visit.  I  dare  not 
speak.  May  all  the  unwearied  kindnesses,  the  patience  with  my 
careless,  bad  ways,  the  loving  words  given  to  the  stranger  babies, — 
all,  all  that  you  have  done,  and  wished  to  do  for  me,  be  rewarded 
fourfold  into  your  own  bosoms.  We  shall  meet  where  these  dread- 
ful partings  will  never  come.  God  grant  it  for  Jesus'  sake  !  I 
shall  soon,  I  doubt  not,  feel  myself  again.  I  cannot  write  more 
now.  God  bless  you  !  bless  me  !  Ever,  ever  remember  in  prayer 

SISTER  JEANETTE. 


FROM    MRS.    CANFIELD.  99 


IX. 

"  Comforted  together  with  you  by  the  mutual  faith  both  of  you  and  me." 

Letter  from  Mrs.  Canfield  describing  a  visit  from  Rev.  S.  C.  Damon — A  valued 
old  friend — The  love  of  Christian  friends — A  realization  of  the  heavenly  meeting 
— Mrs.  Canfield  to  Rev.  S.  C.  Damon — A  beautiful  prayer — Sunnyside — Rev. 
E.  H.  C.  to  Mrs.  Platt— Mrs.  Platt  to  her  sister — A  blessing.  1851  fo  1854. 

FROM  MRS.  CANFIELD. 

NEW  YORK,  December  12,  1851. 
MY  DEAREST  SISTER: — 

I  feel  as  if  I  could  settle  down  to  no  quiet  employment  until  I 
have  poured  out  my  heart  to  you,  who  will  more  perfectly  than 
any  one  else  understand  me.  This  morning  at  nine  o'clock  I  actu- 
ally kissed  good-bye  to  our  old  friend  Mr.  Damon  !  Last  night  we 
entertained  him,  his  wife,  and  son  Samuel  under  our  roof;  and  the 
last  voice  I  heard  out  of  my  own  room  was  his,  sounding  so  fami- 
liarly, and  yet  so  strangely,  in  my  house.  That  sleep  was  banished 
you  can  well  imagine. 

A  week  since,  on  opening  our  door  to  say  good-bye  to  a  lady 
visitor,  my  eyes  fell  on  a  gentleman  just  about  to  ring.  I  forgot 
where  I  was,  and  who  I  was,  when  Samuel  Damon — unchanged  in 
person,  voice,  or  manner;  looking  as  if  he  had  left  us  only  yester- 
day— stood  before  me.  My  loud  exclamations  brought  out  Mr. 
C.  and  Ellie,  and  there  was  a  general  confusion  for  a  time — Jem- 
mie,  for  some  curious  reason,  clinging  round  his  neck,  as  if  he  had 
been  an  old  friend.  He  sat  an  hour  with  us;  and  what  an  hour  it 
was!  Oh,  how  we  wished  for  you!  He  talked  of  you  constantly, 
making  all  manner  of  inquiries  about  your  appearance,  home,  hus- 
band, children,  everything.  I  don't  think  his  interest  in  us  has 
lessened  one  jot  by  ten  years'  absence.  Mrs.  Damon  says  our 
letters  were  opened  more  eagerly  than  those  from  his  own  sisters; 
and  all  I  have  seen  of  him  proves  that  he  really,  truly  loved  us,  as 
Christian  friends  may  love 


100  THE    HEAVENLY    MEETING. 

I  went  on  Friday  morning  to  see  Mrs.  Damon, 
hoping  they  would  return  with  me;  but  other  friends  took  them 
from  us.  He  went  on  Saturday  to  Washington,  stopping  at  Phila- 
delphia and  Burlington,  visiting  all  his  old  friends  there;  and  yes- 
terday afternoon  they  came  to  us,  and  sailed  to-day  at  2  o'clock. 
Ten  years  have  left  no  trace  on  him.  Mrs.  Damon  has  grown 
pretty,  and  I  liked  her  very  much.  She  is  just  the  wife  he  needed. 
The  boy  looks  very  much  like  him.  They  left  their  youngest  son 
of  three  years  in  Honolulu,  fearing  the  effects  of  a  change  to  a  cold 
climate.  They  like  the  Islands  very  much — feel  that  it  is  home, 
and  would  not  return  on  any  account  to  this  country.  They  have 
never  had  a  day's  sickness.  The  box  he  sent  us,  that  was  lost, 
contained  some  very  valuable  things*— coral,  native  bed-spread,  etc. 

Only  think,  they  passed  through  New  York  when  you  were  here; 
but  he  was  sick  and  did  not  know  we  were  living  here.  The  only 
drawback  to  the  pleasure  of  the  visit  was  your  absence.  He  told 
me  to  say  to  you  that  it  was  the  only  plan  he  failed  in  executing  in 
all  his  life.  He  had  determined  to  see  you,  and  was  disappointed 
— begged  me  to  write  to  you  at  once,  and  send  him  your  answer. 
He  remembered  all  your  funny  sayings  and  doings.  Last  evening 
we  went  to  lecture  once  more  together ;  not  to  the  session  room, 
but  to  our  church,  to  hear  my  husband  preach.  He  was  much 
pleased  with  the  lecture — put  his  arms  round  me  in  the  old  queer 
way,  and  told  me  so.  Oh,  it  was  all  so  natural,  so  queer,  so  excit- 
ing! I  scarcely  dared  to  think  or  feel  while  they  were  here,  and 
after  they  were  gone  I  just  gave  up,  and  went  to  bed  for  an  hour 
or  two.  Father,  mother,  brother,  home,  girlhood  and  its  scenes, 
the  living  and  the  dead,  the  past,  present,  and  future, — all  seemed 
to  mingle  in  an  overwhelming  tide,  and  I  almost  sank  beneath  its 
irresistible  force.  You,  you  will  understand  it;  there  needs  no 
lengthened  explanation.  If  I  could  only  have  had  you  here! 

To  see  them  all  at  our  table !  Was  I  not  right  to  kiss  him  good- 
bye? He  turned,  after  passing  the  yard  gate,  to  remind  me  again 
to  write  to  you  and  give  you  his  love.  When  shall  we  meet  again? 
Probably  no  more  on  earth;  but  oh,  there  is  one  home  for  us  all, 
when  our  Master's  work  is  done.  This  meeting  made  me  realize 
more  than  I  had  ever  done,  what  the  heavenly  meeting  will  be,  if 
we  are  so  blessed  as  to  reach  that  blessed  country. 


A   PLEASANT   DREAM.  IOI 

MRS.  CANFIELD  TO  REV.   S.  C.  DAMON. 

NEW  YORK,  ST.  PETER'S  RECTORY,  Feb.  7,  1852. 
MY  DEAR  FRIEND:  — 

Your  brotherly  epistle  was  most  welcome.  I  wished  to  write  you 
immediately,  and  have  talked  of  it  again  and  again,  but  the  many 
engagements  and  interruptions  of  city  life  have  prevented.  In  my 
position  duties  press  so  upon  one  another  that  it  is  difficult  to  find 
time  for  any  claims  but  those  arising  from  one's  immediate  family 
and  parish.  My  distant  friends  are  as  dear  to  my  heart  as  ever, 
but  I  seldom  find  time  to  tell  them  so. 

You,  I  suppose,  are  safely  "at  the  haven  where  you  would  be;" 
and,  I  trust,  found  your  little  boy  well.  You  did  not  say  one  word 
in  your  epistle  about  little  Samuel,  from  which  we  inferred  that  he 
had  entirely  recovered  from  his  indisposition.  Jemmie  still  remem- 
bers him  and  you,  and  says,  "Mother,  didn't  I  cling  round  his 
neck?" 

Pray,  what  do  you  think?  The  beautiful  prayer  in  our  liturgy 
prescribed  to  be  used  for  a  family  gone  to  sea,  was  offered  in  one 
of  the  Episcopal  churches  in  this  city  the  Sunday  after  you  left,  for 
you !  Now,  don't  let  your  Congregational  scruples  be  shocked. 
It  was  most  sincerely  offered  by  some,  I  know. 

Your  visit  still  seems  like  a  dream  to  me — a  very  pleasant  one, 
I  assure  you.  From  the  pleasure  it  afforded  me  I  seemed  to  catch 
a  glimpse  of  the  happiness  of  the  world  above.  For  oh,  if  it  be  so 
sweet  to  meet  Christian  friends  here,  in  the  midst  of  the  painful 
memories,  changes,  and  conflict  of  this  mortal  life,  what  must  it  be 
to  sit  down  with  them  in  the  kingdom  of  our  Lord,  when  death  is 
passed,  our  warfare  ended,  our  tears  forever  wiped  away,  and  a 
cloudless  eternity  before  us  !  Jeanette,  in  a  hurried  letter,  speaking 
of  your  vjsit,  says,  "I  cannot  talk  about  it.  How  very,  very  pleas- 
ant it  must  have  been  !  I  should  have  been  so  much  delighted  to 
see  him.  But  we  shall  meet  no  more  for  only  a  hurried  interview, 
but  for  an  eternal  day." 

I  cannot  help  regretting  still  that  you  did  not  see  her;  but,  per- 
haps, it  has  been  for  the  best.  It  is  very  pleasant  to  feel  that  we 
are  all  laboring  for  the  same  Master,  though  at  different  posts  and 
in  different  ways,  and  are  all  looking  forward  to  the  same  home. 


102  MRS.    CANFIELD    TO    DR      DAMON. 

I  am  quite  sure,  if  we  are  so  blessed  as  to  reach  that  home,  we  shall 
know  and  love  each  other  there 

Your  ideas  with  respect  to  the  authorship  of  "  Sunnyside"  were 
not  correct.  It  was  written  by  the  daughter  of  Professor  Stuart, 
of  Andover.  It  has  created  quite  a  sensation  in  our  community. 
I  think  it  ends  ajmost  too  well  to  be  natural, — the  daughters  are 
married  too  well,  in  a  worldly  point  of  view.  However,  it  is  said 
to  be  entirely  true. 

Thank  you  for  your  kind  expressions  of  interest  in  my  husband. 
I  do  not  think  your  estimate  of  him  at  all  exaggerated.  He  is  a 
fearless,  uncompromising  preacher  of  the  truth,  *he  simple,  pure 
Gospel  of  our  Redeemer;  and  that,  too,  in  a  position  where  it  has 
been  seldom  thus  proclaimed.  I  should  not  be  at  all  surprised  if 
you  were  to  "  fall  in  love  with  him,"  for  I  know  one  who  did  it 
before  you.  He  has  a  great  work  to  do,  and  is  very  busy,  heart 
and  soul,  in  it.  It  is  a  work  worthy,  infinitely  worthy  of  all  man's 
physical  and  mental  energies. 

I  want  to  know  how  you  found  all  at  home ;  how  your  congre- 
gation has  prospered  during  your  long  absence ;  and  what  your 
little  boy  thought  of  your  return. 

Tell  Mrs.  Damon,  with  my  love,  that  I  read  the  Thanksgiving 
sermon  with  much  interest,  and  was  much  pleased  with  it.  I  hope 
she  will- send  me  any  other  production  from  the  same  source  that 
may  appear  in  print.  I  shall  always  be  interested  in  seeing  them. 

.  .  .  .  E.  sends  her  love  to  you  all.  Tell  Sammie  that 
Jemmie  is  very  busy  pasting  pictures  into  a  blank  book  to  make  a 
scrap-book.  He  reads  very  well  now,  and  is  beginning  to  write 
in  a  copy-book.  M.  still  screams  at  the  sight  of  a  gentleman,  but 
is  beginning  to  like  her  own  sex.  I  hope  she  may  retain  some- 
thing of  this  aversion  when  she  reaches  girlhood It 

is  now  four  o'clock  ;  my  good  husband  left  immediately  after 
breakfast,  and  has  not  been  home  since, — visiting  the  people,  I  sup- 
pose. If  he  were  here  he  would  send  a  message,  for  he  feels  much 
interested  in  my  "  friend  Damon."  Now  do  let  us  hear  from  you 
soon,  and,  if  I  do  not  prove  a  good  correspondent,  do  not  set  it 
down  to  the  want  of  inclination.  Our  wannest  love  to  your  good 
wife. 


SISTERLY    AFFECTION.  103 

FROM  REV.  E.  H.  CANFIELD  TO  MRS.  PLATT. 

BROOKLYN,  December  24,  1853. 
MY  DEAR  SISTER  : — 

I  am  down  in  our  back  parlor  all  alone,  writing  by  gaslight,  the 

rest  of  the  family  still  in  bed  ;  the  hour  6  o'clock But 

I  do  not  write  to  give  you  news, — that  others  have  done  better  than 
I  can, — I  write  because  I  must.  I  have  been  thinking  of  the 
Christmas  seasons  we  were  together  in  Delaware,  while  lying  awake 
this  morning,  and  my  heart  has  said  more  than  once,  "Oh,  that  you 
were  here  now  !"  There  is  nothing  of  an  earthly  nature  that  your 
sister  Martha  so  much  longs  for  as  a  sight  of  your  face.  Sometimes, 
as  we  talk  about  you,  she  becomes  intensely  excited,  and  says  she 
shall  fly,  or  do  some  unheard-of  thing,  if  she  and  you  are  kept  at 
this  distance  any  longer.  She  often  says  she  would  surrender  all 
her  comforts  here  and  go  back  to  Delaware  for  the  sake  of  being 
where  she  could  have  an  occasional  talk  with  you.  I  have  been 
sympathizing  strongly  with  this  feeling  this  morning,  and  I  write 
merely  for  the  purpose  of  saying  so,  and  wishing  you  a  truly  happy 
Christmas  and  New  Year 

The  past  year  has  been  crowned  with  blessings  to  me 

The  lines  have  fallen  to  us  in  very  pleasant  places.  If  you  were 
where  we  could  see  you  occasionally,  we  could  ask  nothing  more. 
Your  absence  creates  a  blank  in  Martha's  heart  which  nothing  can 
fill.  But  I  must  stop.  I  learn  that  you  have  promised  to  come 
East  next  spring,  if  we  do  not  go  West.  This  is  some  comfort. 

TO  MRS.  CANFIELD— FROM  MRS.  PLATT. 

August,  1854. 

.  .  .  .  This  darling  girl  !  I  believe  I  welcome  each  new 
gift  for  immortality  with  more  and  more  love.,  I  believe  this  baby 
is  to  be  a  blessing, — a  blessing  to  the  world,  if  her  life  is  long  ;  a 
sanctified  blessing  to  her  parents,  if  early  called  home. 

Wednesday  morning. — Last  evening  your  very  kind  letter  to  Mr. 
P.  came.  How  sweet  is  this  warm  expression  of  sisterly  love  and 
sympathy  !  It  is  a  blessing  to  have  a  sister  !  Dear  little  M.  shall 
have  this  baby  to  call  her  sister  cousin,  tell  her.  I  do  not  know 
about  the  name.  I  think  she  will  not  look  a  bit  like 


104  A   HAPPY   CIRCLE. 

any  of  our  family ;   for  that  reason  I  care  less  about  her  being 

Jeanette On  Sunday  eve  I  went  out  to  tea  with  the 

family;  was  carried  by  the  most  willing  arms;  since  then  have 
walked,  and  joined  them  at  every  meal.  Nurse  takes  baby. 
Grandma  is  staying  this  week  with  us.  I  wish  you  could  all  of 
you  look  in  upon  our  happy  circle.  Has  not  your  distant  sister 
been  encompassed  by  prayers?  Have  not  those  prayers  been 
heard?  Dear  Christian  sisters! 


FROM  A  LETTER  TO  HER  SISTER  S.,  written  in  the  autumn  or  early 

winter  of  1854. 

Wednesday  morning. 

I  wish,  dear  sister,  you  could  peep  into  our  cozy  little  nursery 
this  beautiful  morning !  I  have  turned  the  "library"  into  a  nurs- 
ery. The  sitting-room,  or  as  the  English  would  say — "Living 
room" — with  its  great  bay-window,  was  much  too  cold,  though 
the  grate  is  so  large.  But  this  little  nook  of  a  room  is  just  the 
thing  for  winter.  In  one  corner  stands  J.'s  crib — darling  baby — 
I  wish  you  could  know  her!  But  we  have  to  give  up  this  home. 
It  has  been  sold,  and  we  must  leave  in  April.  Do  not  say  a  word 
of  sorrow  or  regret.  I  know  of  no  family  so  blessed  of  God  as 
we;  such  perfect  health  and  happiness.  Having  these,  shall  we 
be  troubled  because  we  have  not  earthly  possessions  or  a  settled 
home?  Our  "Inheritance"  is  above,  I  trust. 

J.  H.  P. 


ILLNESS    OF    MRS.    CANFIELD.  105 


X. 

"  Very  pleasant  hast  thou  been  unto  me,  thy  love  to  me  was  wonderful." 

Goes  to  New  York — Illness  and  death  of  her  sister  Martha — Beautiful  examples 
of  sisterly  affection — A  privilege  to  see  a  Christian  die.     August,  1855. 

IN  the  month  of  August,  1855,  Mrs.  Platt  went  to  Brooklyn, 
N.  Y. ,  taking  with  her  E.,  eight  years  old,  and  J.,  one  year,  to  be 
with  her  loving  sister  Martha  during  an  illness,  which  proved  to  be 
her  last.  She  remained  until  after  her  death;  the  following  letter 
was  written  in  her  sister's  room,  where  she  was  in  constant  attend- 
ance upon  her. 

TO  HER  HUSBAND. 

August  9,  1855. 

I  dare  not  write  about  our  beloved  one  to-night,  and  yet  I  must. 
Oh,  could  you  have  seen  her  lovely  welcome,  and  the  happiness 
my  coming  gave  her! — my  precious  sister. 

We  drove  to  a  friend's  house,  where  we  were  kindly  cared  for, 
opposite  the  Rectory.  John,  poor  John  [her  brother],  is  sitting 
by  me.  She  does  not  know  he  is  here.  They  only  let  her  see 
me  and  sister  E.  She  says,  "I  want  quiet,  no  scenes,  no  excite- 
ment; I  do  not  want  to  see  Jemmie  [her  own  son,  eight  years  old]. 
I  am  glad  Mattie  is  in  Burlington,  I  do  not  need  to  see  Dr.  Tyng" 
(he  was  all  afternoon  with  brother  C.);  "he  can  tell  me  nothing 
I  do  not  know." 

So  the  dear  one  lies  wjth  her  hands  peacefully  spread,  waiting 
the  Lord's  will.  Brother  C.  has  been  over  since  tea;  one  after 
another  we  have  talked  together.  God  giving  us  strength,  we  have 
prayed  and  resolved  that  the  beloved  one's  will  shall  be  carried 
out!  No  word  shall  be  said!  no  token  shall  be  given!  '"The 
Angel  of  the  Covenant,"  even  our  own  Blessed  Redeemer,  her 


106  A    GREAT    PRIVILEGE. 

God  and  our  God,  shall  have  her  all  in  His  own  holy  keeping.  If  it 
is  His  will  to  carry  her  to  His  bosom,  sparing  her  all  earthly  agony 
of  one  parting,  His  will  be  done  ! — nay  more,  this  is  our  will.  She 
must  leave  us,  is  passing  down  into  "the  valley"  even  now, — on 
her  Saviour's  arms,  we  all  know.  She  may  live  thirty-six  hours. 

Dearest,  I  know  your  deep  anxiety  for  me  and  the  children. 
Place  yourself  in  brother  C.'s  place,  and  feel  was  there  one  to 
whom  you  could  turn  as  he  did  to  me?  "Oh,  Jennie,  Jennie,  how 
I  have  wanted  you,  you  to  speak  to,  to  go  to!"  Oh,  I  am  so 
thankful,  so  grateful,  to  think  I  was  helped  here  now!  I  did  not 
think  of  being  any  help,  with  my  crying  little  ones,  and  wondered  at 
your  prayer  the  morning  I  left:  "  May  those  who  go,  be  a  blessing 
where  they  are  called." 

Friday  [August  10],  12  o'clock. 

Our  precious  one  knows  all.  I  have  just  left  her.  Calmly, 
more  calm  than  in  health,  she  asks  for  each  article  of  her  own,  and 
names  the  loved  one  she  wishes  to  have  them.  Oh,  what  a  privi- 
lege to  see  a  Christian  die!  "Oh,  Jinty  darling,"  said  she  to 
me  (sending  all  away  but  our  own  two  selves),  and  laying  her 
gentle  hand  on  my  face,  "Oh,  what  you  have  been  to  me!  This 
face,  the  sunshine  of  my  life."  "Yes,  and  what  you  have  been 
to  me, — my  guide  and  example  always  ;  and  now,  oh  what  a  bright 
light  at  this  dark  moment  for  me  to  follow  !"  I  replied,  "  I  shall 
soon  follow  you;  you  are.  now  my  example.  I  will  do  as  you  do 
now  when  I  get  in  the  'dark  valley;'  for  I  shall  never  be  able  to 
say  more  than  you  now  do."  "  I  want,  I  only  want  to  do  right 
and  feel  right." 

August  14,  1855. 

I  felt  last  night  that  I  could  not  go  away  to  sleep  out  of  this  house 
after  hearing  thte  doctor's  opinion,  but  dreaded  that  I  must  for  the 

children's  sake.      Brother   C promised  to  come  for  me  any 

moment,  if  there  was  any  change Yesterday  she  was 

much  distressed  by  her  "poor  mouth"  and  sore  back.  Her  greatest 
difficulty  now  is  in  her  mouth  and  throat.  Here  it  must  end,  I 
suppose.  She  did  not  talk  much  yesterday,  except  about  her  poor 
mouth  ;  now  and  then  speaking  of  mother,  and  father,  and  brother. 


TRUST  IN  A  PERFECT  SAVIOUR.  107 

It  seemed  to  us  that,  unconsciously  to  herself,  she  was  drawing 
nigh  to  those  who  have  "gone  before." 

I  leaned  over  and  slipped  my  hand  under  the  nurse's,  just  as  I 
was  going  to  bid  her  good  night.  She  exclaimed,  without  seeing 
me,  "Ah,  that's  Jinty  !  Come  around,  Jinty  !  Have  you  heard 
from  home  ?  How  is  your  husband  ?  Had  the  chills  ?  Is  he  with 
his  mother?  Who  takes  care  of  him?  How  are  H.  and  F.  ? 
Good-night." 

This  morning,  when  I  first  came  in  her  room,  with  my  white 
wrapper  and  blue  sack,  she  exclaimed,  with  an  expression  of  de- 
light, "  Oh,  Jinty,  what  a  beautiful  color  !  You  look  like  a  genie, 
or  a  fairy."  Thus,  even  in  death,  the  sister  of  her  love  and  admi- 
ration was  the  "  delight  of  her  eyes,"  as  she  said. 

BROOKLYN,  August  23,  1855. 

I  did  not  write  yesterday.  Our  beloved  sister  has  been  gradually 
failing  since  Sunday  night ;  still  lingers  with  us,  though  on  the 
border  of  "the  spirit  land."  She  speaks  of  father,  mother,  James, 
and  this  morning  of  "a  beautiful  little  girl,"  as  if  already  in  view 
of  and  communion  with  the  "shining  land  beyond  the  flood." 
Yesterday,  at  noon,  there  was  for  a  short  time  a  perfect  return  of 
reason  and  mental  vigor.  She  asked  for  her  husband  ;  and,  when 
all  had  left  the  room  but  him  and  me,  she  asked,  what  was  the 
matter  with  her?  was  she  very  sick  ?  .was  she  dying?  At  once  she 
understood  all,  and,  closing  her  eyes,  she. added,  "Well,  I  am  a 
poor,  miserable,  utterly  worthless  sinner;  but  I  perfectly  trust  in 
a  perfect  Saviour.  His  blood,  His  righteousness, — on  these  I 
trust ;  and  I  am  not  afraid  to  enter  the  grave  and  gate  of  death. 

"  '  I  rest  my  soul  on  Jesus, 
The  spotless  Lamb  of  God.' 

I  know  He  will  never  leave  me." 

Then,  when  alone  with  me,  she  again  requested  that  I  would 
be  a  sister  to  her  husband,. and  see  by  every  means  that  her  dear 
children  were  trained  up  for  the  Lord  ;  ever  having  kept  before 
them  the  meeting  of  their  mother  in  heaven.  She  thus  was  per- 
mitted to  comfort  us,  and  left  for  our  help  her  dying  testimony  of 
the  power  and  grace  of  that  Saviour  whom  she  has  followed  since 
her  eleventh  year. 


I08  A    PEACEFUL   DEATH. 

August  24,  1855. 

I  finish  the  letter  brother  C.  sent  to  you  yesterday  before  it  was 
closed.  Our  beloved  one  entered  into  "rest"  at  6  o'clock  yester- 
day evening.  Peacefully  as  an  infant  falls  to  sleep  in  its  mother's 
arms,  so  our  sister  passed  away  on  "  the  Everlasting  Arms."  The 
funeral  will  take  place  this  afternoon  in  the  church.  Dr.  Tyng 
(according  to  her  request)  performing  that  portion  of  the  service 
belonging  to  the  Church,  and  Dr.  Cutler  will  accompany  brother 

C to  Burlington  to-morrow  morning,  and  finish  the  service  at 

the  churchyard  of  St.  Mary's,  where  sleep  our  other  precious  ones. 
I  shall  not  go  to  Burlington  ;  my  only  desire  is  for  the  quiet  of  my 
own  home. 

August  25,  1855. 

.  I  want  to  get  home  ;  I  am  very  sad  and  lonely.  Through 
all  this  great  trial  I  have  turned  in  vain  to  see  one  familiar  face  that 
cared  for  me.  Tell  Mrs.  Murray  how  I  longed  for  her  quiet,  sym- 
pathizing look  !  Many  kind  friends  ministered  to  our  dear  one, 
and  stood  by  us  through  these  long,  distressing  days;  But  I  felt  as 
if  to  the  parish  I  was  "only  Mrs.  Canfield's  poor  little  sister  from 
Ohio."  I  have  felt  such  loneliness  as  I  never  knew  before.  But 
for  these  children, — what  comforts  they  have  been  !  Nettie  has 
two  teeth — lower  ones ;  has  improved  every  day  since  we  came  ; 
has  enjoyed  so  much  being  Carried  up  and  down  the  cool  streets 
in  her  nurse's  arms.  She  has  felt  none  of  the  gloom  and  sadness 
that  poor  E.  has  seen,  though  I  have  tried  by  every  means  in  my 
power  to  keep  her  out  of  the  circle  of  its  influence.  Ellie  looks 
badly,  and  has  not  been  well  these  few  past  days.  It  would  have 
been  an  unspeakable  comfort  to  me  if  we  could  have  been  to- 
gether, and  I  know  of  no  one  who  could  better  comfort  brother 

C by  sympathy  than  yourself.     But  this  was  denied.     I  hope 

you  will  write  to  him  a  full,  private  letter  of  your  sympathy  and 
prayers  in  his  great  bereavement.  He  wanders  about,  hardly 
knowing  what  he  is  doing.  I  cannot  get  him  to  sleep  of  nights.  I 
have  been  with  him  parts  of  every  night,  and  tried  in  every  way  to 
soothe  and  comfort.  God  will  comfort  him,  I  know  ;  and  days  of 
brightness,  I  hope,  will  again  come  over  his  path.  But  never  more 
can  such  sister's  love  be  given  back  to  me.  The  only  eye  that 


NO    COMMON    LOVE.  1 09 

from  infancy  my  faults  had  no  power  to  dim, — the  only  heart  that 
has  loved  as  if  no  imperfection  could  be  mine  !  Dearest,  it  is  not 
that  I  do  not  value  the  deep,  true  lovfe  that  God  has  given  to  me 
in  you,  or  that  I  am  not  grateful  for  the  happy  days  that  have  been 
found  at  your  side.  But  this  was  no  common  sister  ;  the  love  she 
gave  to  me  was  no  common  love.  I  feel,  oh  how  I  feel  her  loss  ! 
Think  of  all  the  many,  many  years  that  our  thoughts  and  feelings 
blended,  and  the  current  of  our  lives  was  as  one  !  Think  what  she 
has,  what  she  has  not  been  to  me !  Since  her  eleventh  year  my  ex- 
ample and  guide,  the  counsellor  and  comforter  of  all  my  youth  ! 
In  my  faithlessness  I  have  said,  "Can  I  ever  get  Home  without 
her?"  God  forgive  this  sinfulness  !  Is  she  not  my  example  still? 
"Her  memory/'  Dr.  Tyng  said,  "could  only  lead  upward  and 
onward  every  one  whose  heart  had  loved  her." 

"  Jinty,  seas  cannot  divide  us."  I  know  it.  It  is  only  "  Jordan's 
wave"  that  now  separates  us.  We  are  now  "  one  army  of  the  living 

God." 

• 

"  Angels,  and  living  saints  and  dead,   • 
But  one  communion  make." 

Since  I  have  been  yours,  dear  husband,  I  have  kept  back  not 
one  thought  that  has  been  in  my  heart,  which  is  so  wholly  yours ; 
and  I  must  say  what  I  now  think — not  entirely  new,  for  a  shadow 
of  it  has  seemed  upon  me  all  this  spring,  notwithstanding  I  have 
been  in  perfect  health.  I  shall  not  be  very,  very  long  behind  my 
sister.  Our  family  have  an  organization  (some  members  of  it)  that 
was  not  made  for  long  life.  The  never-ceasing  action  of  the  whole 
nervous  system  in  power  and  force  that  cannot  long  continue.  I 
would  not  pain  you,  darling.  We  and  ours  are  in  His  hand.  I 
do  not  dare  say  this  because  I  feel  the  meetness  for  heaven  that 
has  so  long  been  her's.  Oh,  no,  no.  May  now  her  spirit,  her 
words,  her  whole  life  and  death,  be  sanctified  and  blessed  to  me  ! 
In  her  own  loved  hymn  : —  t 

"  Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee, 

Nearer  to  Thee ; 
E'en  though  it  be  a  cross 

That  raiseth  me; 
Still  all  my  song  shall  be, 
Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee." 


110  HOME. 

RETURNS  HOME. 

Friday  Morning,  August  31,  1855. 

I  have  just  put  J.  ipto  her  crib.  E.  has  gone  over  to  bid  a  littl< 
friend  good-bye.  Z.  C.  has  gone  over  to  New  York  to  engage 
state-rooms  on  the  North  River  boat,  .and  I  have  a  moment  to  give 
to  you Brother  W.  called  again  this  morning. 

[They  go  to  Vermont  and  stay  a  few  days,  when  she  leaves  for 
home  with  W.  A.  P.  Wednesday  evening  she  writes  : — ] 

I  am  very  sorry  to  disappoint  you,  and  make  our  stay  from  home 
still  longer,  though  glad  to  have  a  little  time  to  see  Vermont,  and 
hope  to  feel  the  benefit  from  that  fresh,  invigorating  air,  so  as  not 
to  come  home  looking  quite  so  badly  as  I  now  do. 

The  dear  boys, — how  I  do  want  to  see  their  faces  !  But  not  so 
much  as  I  do  their  "papa's." 


GAMBIER.  Ill 


XI. 

"  In  sure  dwellings  and  in  quiet  resting  places." 

Visit  to  Gambier — Diocesan  Convention — Pleasant  greetings — Trip  to  Missouri 
with  her  cousin  Mrs.  Maccracken — W.  A.  P. — Gratitude  for  attention — A  night 
of  diversion — Hurrah  for  Ohio  girls  and  Iowa  development — St.  Louis — First 
impressions  of  Missouri — Rose  Hill — Beau  ideal tf  a  country  house — Her  aunt's 
delightful  home — Her  uncle's  missionary  work.  May,  1856,  to  Oct.  1858. 

MRS.  PLATT  goes  to  Gambier  with  the  Rev.  Mr.  McElroy  and 
wife  to  attend  the  Diocesan  Convention. 

TO  HER  HUSBAND. 

GAMBIER,  May  4,  1856. 

Our  ride  was  very  pleasant,  though  long  as  to  time  ;  we  arrived 
here  at  5^  o'clock.  I  think  I  never  had  so  long  and  pleasant  a 
ride.  I  was  not  at  all  sick !  We  stopped  and  ate  our  lunch  under 
the  trees ;  afterward  stopped  an  hour  at  some  tavern  for  the  horses 
to  get  their  dinner  and  rest.  A  very  pleasant  driver,  but  poor 
horses  you  would  think,  though  Mrs.  McElroy  and  I  said  we  were 
so  well  satisfied  with  them  so  soon  as  we  saw  their  heads;  we  like 
to  go  slow  and  sure. 

How  constantly  you  are  in  my  thoughts,  connected  with  the  en- 
joyment of  every  religious  service,  and  the  meeting  and  greeting 
of  every  dear  old  friend.  "Like  me,  like  my  husband"  my  heart 
seems  to  say.  And  Mrs.  Day,  too,  and  her  beautiful  sister,  how 
my  heart  warmed  to  them,  as  they  so  kindly  met  me  and  looked 
"  so  disappointed  that  Mr.  P.  had  not  come." 

Everybody  (so  many,  I  mean)  has  met  me  so  kindly,  and  says, 
"I  am  so  glad_>w*  are  here!"  I  suppose  my  pale  face  called  for 
this  change,  they  think.  And,  oh,  //  is  so  very  pleasant  to  see  so 


112  WESTWARD — A    LOVING    BROTHER. 

many  that  I  know  so  well,  that  are  dear  from  associations  with 
those  who  can  never  more  meet  below  !  /  do  feel  so  grateful  to 
you,  darling,  for  the  kind  consideration  that  urged  me  off,  at  such 
a  sacrifice.  I  fear  both  Marys  will  have  chills,  and  then  how  will 
you  get  on?  Poor  Nettie,  who  will  look  after  her ?  Who?  God. 
Is  not  His  eye  over  you  all  ?  I  leave  you  all  in  His  holy  keeping. 
Pray  only  that  the  Blessed  Spirit  of  all  Grace  may  rest  upon  every 
member  of  this  Convention,  and  every  visitor  in  this  parish.  Miss 
Battersby  and  I  went  to  the  6  o'clock  prayer-meeting — how  delight- 
ful !  Afterwards  Mr.  French,  Mr.  Burr,  Mr.  Roberts,  and  Mr. 
Stiirges  walked  nearly  home  with  me.  Mrs.  French  and  all  her 
family  are  here;  I  am  so  glad  to  see  them. 

1858.  In  the  autumn  of  this  year  Mrs.  Platt  went  with  her 
cousin,  Mrs.  Maccracken,  of  Lancaster,  O.,  to  visit  an  aunt  in 
Missouri,  whose  husband,  a  Baptist  minister,*  had  gone  there  some 
years  before,  as  a  missionary.  The  journey  was  made  partly  for 
the  benefit  of  her  health. 

From  letters  written  to  her  husband  during  this  trip  the  follow- 
ing extracts  are" taken: — 

COLUMBUS,  Sept.  21,  1858. 

I  have  just  laid  down  "Two  Millions,"  not  dollars,  but  a  little 
poem.  My  heart  and  head  are  full  of  you,  my  husband,  you — 
your  own  self  has  stood  out  before  me  at  every  page  by  way  of 
strongest  contrast.  Judge  for  yourself;  I  send  the  book. 

Brother  W.  met  me  at  the  station.  No  own  brother  could  more 
tenderly  care  for  me  in  every  little  nameless  attention — the  seat  in 
the  carriage,  the  driving,  "not  too  fast,  Jemmy"  (to  the  driver), 
insisting  upon  almost  carrying  me  up  stairs  to  choose  where  I  would 

sleep,  etc.  etc I  accept  all  easily,  if  not  gracefully, 

as  to  your  wife. 

.  .  .  .  E.,  H.,  F.,  J.,  H.,  how  they  all  come  about  me! 
I  have  just  one  prayer:  "  Thy  almighty  arm,  oh,  keep  it  continu- 
ally around  these  precious  little  ones  1"  "If  the  Lord  keep  not 
the  house,  the  watchmen  watch  in  vain."  But  He  is  our  "keeper," 
and  I  can,  and  do,  perfectly  trust  Him 

*  Rev.  Wm.  Welch.  He  was  employed  by  the  American  S.  S.  Union  for  a 
number  of  years. 


HURRAH    FOR   OHIO   GIRLS.  113 

We  have  just  had  a  nice  long  talk  about  his  loneliness.  It  makes 
my  heart  ache  to  see  how  solitary  in  heart  he  is.  [This  brother, 
W.  A.  P.,  had  but  recently  lost  his  wife — the  Fanny  of  other  let- 
ters— a  lady  of  most  superior  heart  and  mind  culture.]  .  .  .  . 
I  do  like  him.  Take  him  all  in  all,  he  is  a  superior  man.  The 
kindness  which  God  has  put  in  his  heart  to  ever  feel  towards  me — 
only  his  half  brother's  wife,  I  can  never  forget. 


She  went  from  Columbus  to  Lancaster  via  Zanesville,  and  writes 
from  Lancaster  as  follows  : — 

September  23d. 

The  hotel  at  Zanesville  was  very  full,  but  the  landlord  said  he 
would  do  all  in  his  power  to  make  me  comfortable.  "Would  I 
object  to  using  a  room  with  another  lady?"  "  No,  not  at  all,  if 
she  was  decent  and  nice."  "  She  was."  So  I  had  a  night  of  as 
great  diversion  and  entertainment  as  you  ever  heard  of. 

She  was  a  young  Mrs.  M.,  born  and  brought  up  in  Beverly, 
Ohio  ;  married  and  moved  to  Iowa.  I  wish  you  could  have  peeped 
in.  This  was  her  first  trip  home  with  a  baby  two  years  old.  She 
stayed  in  the  room  to  watch  the  child,  and  I  went  to  bed  soon  after 
tea,  because  so  tired,  with  pillows  tucked  under  my  head.  I 
perched  myself  for  a  life  picture  of  rural  Iowa  life.  I  wish  you 
could  have  seen  speaker  and  listener,  and  heard  the  peals  of 
laughter  from  the  top  of  the  straw.  She  was  very  young — eighteen 
or  twenty;  a  plain,  unhooped,  simple  country  girl ;  but,  if  a  speci- 
men of  native  Ohio  culture,  then  hurrah  for  Ohio  girls  after  this, 
and  Iowa  development!  Their  little  settlement  was  log  and  board 
houses,  with  near  200  inhabitants  only.  She  gave  a  minute  de- 
scription of  "our  Lyceum,"  which  meets  every  Wednesday  night, 
in  which  women  take  part  in  debate  and  write  essays.  "Why,"  I 
said,  "  how  many  women  have  you,  out  of  the  200  men,  women, 
and  children,  that  are  able  to  'write  essays?'  '  "About  five." 
"What  do  you  do  with  your  baby  when  you  'debate'  and  read 
your  own  '  essays  ?'  '  "  Oh,  I  set  her  down,  or  hand  her  to  some- 
body."  "What  kind  of  questions  do  you  discuss?  Give  me  a 
specimen,  do."  "Moral  suasion;  capital  punishment;  women's 
rights.  We  are  all  great  women's  rights  folks." 


114  RICH    IN   BLESSINGS. 

But  I  must  leave  the  rest  till  I  see  you.  It  was  certainly  the  best 
evening's  entertainment  I  have  had  for  a  long  time, — completely 
diverted  and  restored  me.  I  was  questioned  and  talked  to  sleep, 
and  awoke  this  morning  in  time  to  see  "  Lilly  Doll"  take  her  bath. 

In  justice  to  Mrs.  M ,  of  Millersburg,  I  must  say  the  questioner 

was  your  wife,  as  she  only  asked  one  question  :  "  Does  your  hus- 
band live  on  a  farm  ?" 

When  I  awoke  yesterday  morning  the  pain  was  all  gone,  and  I 
was  much  stronger,  and  so  thankful.  The  ride  to  Zanesville  made 
me  "sea-sick,"  but  still  I  enjoyed  it  much.  As  we  drew  near  to 
the  city  memory  went  back  to  the  first  time  I  saw  it,  now  more 
than  twenty  years,  then  twelve  years  ago — a  bride  with  you. 
Mind  went  to  and  fro  over  all  this  space,  counting  up  and  com- 
paring. Shall  I  tell  you  the  sum  I  made  ?  It  was  this :  that, 
though  childhood,  with  its  sunny  gayety,  and  youth  with  its  bright- 
ness, are  no  more  mine,  I  am  now,  with  you  and  our  precious 
children,  richer,  fuller,  happier  in  earthly  stores  than  I  could  ever 
count  before. 

But  I  am  very  tired  and  must  rest. 

Your  own 

JENNIE. 


FROM  CINCINNATI. 


September  27,  1858. 


.  .  .  .  I  feel  that  your  prayers,  darling  husband,  encircle 
me,  and  Jesus,  our  blessed  Saviour,  has  been  very  near  "about 
my  path"  all  this  day.  I  did  so  dread  the  ride,  and  never  felt  so 
"down,"  as  I  did  last  Monday;  but  I  really  feel  to-night  no  worse, 
and  hope  I  shall  be  held  safely  in  His  hand  to  my  journey's  end. 

The  doctor  said  the  journey  was  often  a  tonic  and  would  help. . 
He  did  not  say,  "  Don't  go  on." 

John  Maccracken  met  us  at  the  Broadway  House. 


MISSOURI — ROSE    HILL.  115 

TO  HER  HUSBAND. 

ROSE  HILL,  Mo.,  October  i,  1858. 

I  am  not  sure  this  will  go  to  the  office  to-day.  "  Hickory  Grove" 
(the  post-office)  is  some  four  miles  distant.  When  Willie  learns 
the  way  he  will  be  post-boy. 

Our  ride  to  St.  Louis  was  long — all  day  and  night  to  4  o'clock 
in  the  morning  of  Wednesday.  The  cars  are  very  wide,  and  seats 
comfortable.  You  know  I  can  curl  up  like  a  kitten,  and  can  make 
a  bed  of  one  seat  as  nicely  as  on  a  parlor  sofa.  Indeed,  it  seemed 
that  I  gathered  strength  and  improved  all  the  way  from  Lancaster. 
Monday  I  could  not  sit  up,  but  lay  down  on  the  seat  all  the  way 
to  Cincinnati ;  was  carried  in  and  out  of  the  cars ;  but  I  feel  better 
now. 

We  went  to  the  "Planters'  House,"  St.  Louis,  for  breakfast, 
and  left  by  the  North  Missouri  Railroad  for  Wright  City.  Here 

Aunt  S ,  and  "  Sam,"  with  his  wagon,  met  us,  and  we  arrived 

safely  at  Rose  Hill  about  5  o'clock  P.  M.  We  did  not  think  well 
of  Indiana.  Illinois  we  passed  over  in  the  dark.  The  great  prairies 
in  the  moonlight  reminded  me  of  the  ocean  and  its  vastness.  There 
was  cultivation  everywhere,  not  unlike  passing  through  Ohio.  Some 
elegant  residences  in  the  suburbs  of  St.  Louis,  and  richly  cultivated 
grounds.  But  all  this  was  left  behind  as  we  went  on;  crossed  the 
great  Missouri  River  in  a  steam  ferry-boat.  The  face  of  the  country 
is  most  beautiful,  such  rich  pasture  lands  and  beautiful  wooded 

spots  here  and  there.  Cousin  S insists  that  "Missouri  is  the 

most  beautiful  country  she  has  ever  seen."  But  I  d.o  not  quite 
agree  with  her.  I  should  put  on  more  hills  and  add  other  varieties 
to  suit  my  taste,  though  it  is  greatly  superior  to  anything  we  have 
seen  yet  on  this  trip. 

Dearly  as  I  wanted  to  see  Aunt  Sarah,  I  had  a  sort  of  dread  of 
her  Missouri  home.  This  feeling  did  not  lessen  as  we  drove 
through  the  woods  and  over  the  prairies  for  six  miles,  and  saw  the 
rude  log-houses  and  rude  improvements.  Judge,  then,  of  the  as- 
tonishment and  delight  when,  coming  through  a  bit  of  woods,  her 
home  stood  before  us,  the  very  sweetest,  neatest,  beau-ideal  of  a 
country  house  ever  seen  anywhere.  Built  of  wood,  painted  white, 
projecting  roof,  with  "curly-cues"  all  round  its  edge,  a  portico 


Il6  BEAU  IDEAL    OF    A   HOME. 

in  front,  embowered  with  honeysuckle  and  climbing  roses,  with 
seats  to  lounge  on  after  dinner.  Green  shutters,  and  all  fresh  and 
clean,  as  if  only  painted  yesterday.  A  spacious  lawn  all  round, 
ornamented  with  the  choicest  shrubs  and  evergreens,  interspersed 
with  clumps  of  native  forest  trees ;  the  whole  inclosed  with  a  neat 
paling  fence,  with  clean-kept  gravel  walks  leading  from  the  door. 
In  front  a  little  gate  leads  into  the  "park,"  and  this  spot  is  the 
most  beautiful  of  all, — a  real  park  of  native  forest,  trimmed  out  to 
suit  the  taste,  with  here  and  there  some  native  cedars  planted,  to 
give  variety  and  greenness  through  the  winter.  Through  this  the 
carriage  drives  to  the  house  from  the  public  road,  entering  by  a 
large  gateway.  On  one  side  of  the  lawn  stand  old  apple-trees 
loaded  with  choice  fruit,  the  ground  covered  with  fallen  apples. 
Also  peaches,  finest  "  Late  Heath,"  and  large  red  varieties;  butter 
pears,  too, — luscious,  such  as  I  have  never  seen  west  of  Philadel- 
phia markets.  Oh,  how  I  have  wanted  to  put  some  to  your  mouth 
— fill  your  hands  and  pockets. 

Behind  the  house  is  Aunt  S 's  well-tilled  garden,  very  large, 

and  full  of  everything,  from  borders  of  choicest  flowers  to  musk 
melons  and  onions,  sage  and  salsify.  There  is  no  house  in  sight, 
or  sound  of  a  neighbor.  Solitude  reigns,  yet  no  solitude  at  all,  for 
the  birds  and  insects,  katydids,  crickets  and  grass-hoppers,  bumble- 
bees and  yellow-jackets,  wasps  and  butterflies,  are  jumping,  spring- 
ing, flying,  and  singing  all  over  and  everywhere.  (I  took  a  wasp 
out  of  my  bed  last  night,  not  admiring  such  company,  though  I 
am  lonely  at  night.) 

The  furniture  of  the  house  compares  favorably  with  out  door 
"  improvements,"  having  been  transported  from  the  Jerseys.  You 
remember  aunt's  well-kept  and  even  beautiful  hair-seat  sofa,  work- 
ing chairs,  etc.  There  is  a  parlor,  large  dining-room,  study, 
kitchen,  pantry,  wash-room,  with  etceteras  below,  and  seven  sleep- 
ing-rooms above,  neatly  finished  and  furnished. 

Such  is  part  of  the  sunny  side  of  this  home.  The  shady  side  is 
the  condition  of  the  society  around.  How  they  all  want  Cyrus 

Platt  to  move  his  family  here  !  There  is  a  neat  farm,  Aunt  S 

says,  she  has  her  "eye  on  for  you."  You  must  certainly  all  see 
this  spot,  dear  husband. 

I  feel  much  stronger  this  morning.  I  lay  down  and  rested  most 
of  yesterday,  and  talked  to  uncle  and  all  as  fast  as  tongue  could 
go  !  Paper,  is  full,  with  much  unsaid. 


A   RIDE    ON   THE   PRAIRIES.  117 

[A  sheet  is  added,  dated  Saturday  morning,  in  which  she  regrets 
the  long  time  we  shall  have  to  wait  before  hearing  from  her,  as 
they  send  to  the  post-office  but  three  times  a  week ;  gives  directions 
about  some  household  affairs,  and  adds: — ] 

I  am  so  grateful  for  all  the  deliverances  of  our  journey,  and  all 
the  health  and  "well-doing"  you  and  the  dear  children  have  en- 
joyed in  my  absence.  I  shall  ever  feel  deeply  indebted  to  cousin 
Sarah  for  this  trip,  so  profitable  to  my  health. 

October  4,  1858. 

Uncle  tries  to  be  a  great  tease.  He  insists  that  now  I  am  shut 
up,  away  in  Missouri,  you  will  run  away  with  the  babies  to  Cali- 
fornia, etc.  I  only  laugh  and  wonder  if  any  other  wife  knows  the 
perfect  trust,  and  rest,  and  love  I  have  in  thee.  I  do  so  begin  to 
long  for  my  own  dear  husband,  and  feel,  if  God  is  pleased  to  spare 
me  to  get  home,  I  shall  cling  closer,  and  more  truly  value  all  I 
have  in  thee  ! 

I  am  so  thankful  the  precious  children  do  so  well  without  me — 
dear  little  J.  and  baby  H: — such  wee  ones  to  leave  so  long.  "Un- 
less the  Lord  keep  the  house,  the  watchmen  watch  in  vain."  May 
we  both  be  made  truly  grateful  for  His  protecting  care  while  thus 
separated  one  from  the  other  !  My  health  still  improves.  Yester- 
day I  ventured  a  six-mile  ride  with  uncle  and  Willie  to  his  churches 
on  the  great  prairie,  and  I  felt  no  inconvenience  from  the  twelve- 
mile  ride. 

.  .  .  .  I  have  not  selected  a  farm  yet.  As  a  result  of  all  I 
have  seen,  Ohio  and  Ohio  people  and  Delaware  have  greatly  risen 
in  my  estimation.  Only  duty,  as  in  dear  aunt  Sarah's  case,  could 
bring  me  to  place  my  family  among  these  Missourians.  Even  such 
a  beautiful  home  as  this  could  not  lure  me. 

I  can  understand  how  uncle  wanted  to  come  and  preach  the 
Gospel  and  close  his  life  among  his  family  kindred  (his  brothers 
and  sisters  are  settled  all  round).  As  early  as  1817  the  land  of  this 
farm  was  "entered"  for  him,  without  the  remotest  idea  that  he 
should  ever  live  upon  it.  He  and  wife  went  out  from  Philadel- 
phia to  St.  Louis  as  missionaries  about  this  time.  They  returned 
East,  and  remained  till  after  her  mother's  death;  then,  in  1826, 
came  back  with  family  and  settled  on  this  farm,  and  planted  these 
trees  that  are  now  so  large.  Aunt  felt  that  their  four  children  could 


Il8  LONGINGS    FOR   HOME. 

not  be  properly  educated  here,  so  again  removed  East,  and  uncle 
became  general  agent  for  the  American  Sunday-school  Union  for 
twenty  years,  until  his  age  showed  it  was  no  longer  his  duty  to  be 
so  actively  employed  and  exposed  by  travel.  In  1848  they  settled 
finally  at  Rose  Hill,  and  everything  in  and  out  of  the  house  looks 
as  if  they  had  always  lived  here.  Such  order  and  neatness — not  a 
chip  or  a  bit  of  paper  blowing  about  out  of  place — house,  barn- 
yard, chicken-yard,  all  the  same.  I  think  aunt  feels  lonely,  and 
longs  for  company  of  her  own  people.  How  much  she  seems  to 
enjoy  our  visit !  I  do  want  to  gratify  her  as  long  as  we  can,  but 
think  we  must  talk  about  turning  homeward  next  week,  though  we 
have  decided  nothing  yet,  nor  spoken  to  dear  aunt.  Cousin  Sarah 
is  very  feeble.  I  feel  that  they  may  never  meet  below  again,  and 
shall  wish  them  to  be  together  as  long  as  they  can.  I  inclose  Mrs. 
Ruffner's  letter;  is  it  not  kind  and  friendly?  I  do  hope  gousin 

S will  be  well  enough  to  stop  at  Louisville  and  see  her  on  our 

return. 

Aunt  S has  just  come  in  and  asks,  "  Have  you  given  my  love 

to  Mr.  Platt,  and  told  him  to  kiss  all  the  babies  for  me?"  Cousin 
Sarah  unites  in  aunt's  message. 

I  am  pretty  well,  with  kisses  for  the  children*. 

CINCINNATI,  Tuesday  Evening,  Oct.  19,  1858, 

Broadway  Hotel. 

We  reached  this  city  this  morning  at  5  o'clock,  and  found  your 
two  letters.  My  heart  was  filled  with  longing  to  get  home,  and  I 
felt  that  I  could  not  put  my  bonnet  off,  but  go  straight  through 
alone.  But  cousin  S.  seemed  so  disturbed,  so  unwilling,  after  all 
her  extreme  kindness,  I  did  not  see  how  to  disappoint  her  in  her 
plans  for  here  and  Columbus,  especially  as  she  determined  she 
could  not  go  to  Delaware  with  me,  but  would  see  me  to  Columbus, 
and  stay  with  me  at  brother  William's  all  night,  and,  as  a  favor, 
asked  me  to  stay  and  go  with  her.  How  could  I  refuse  ?  .  .  .  . 

We  took  a  carriage  and  drove  around  the  city  and  the  beautiful 
suburbs;  but  I  can  truly  say  I  could  only  enjoy  the  ride  with  my 
eyes,  for  I  feel  so  sad  and  disappointed,  and  long  to  get  away  to  you. 

.  .  .  .  We  shall  leave  to-morrow  at  9  A.  M.,  and  stay  with 
cousin  until  Thursday  A.  M.  She  will  then  go  to  Lancaster,  and 
your  wife  to  you.  The  poor  children  !  I  am  so  sorry  to  disap- 
point them  so  many  times. 


REV.    DR.    TYNG.  119 


XII. 

"  He  that  walketh  with  wise  men  shall  be  wise." 

Letters  from  Dr.  Tyng  at  Gambier  and  New  York — First  letter  to  Rev.  S.  C. 
Damon  after  marriage — Pleasant  reminiscences  —  A  peep  at  my  children  — 
Twenty-two  years  have  passed,  but  friendship  remains  as  fresh  and  strong  as 
ever.  June,  1860,  to  September,  1861. 

REV.  DR.  TYNG  came  to  Gambier  to  deliver  an  address  at  the 
Commencement,  and  while  there  Mrs.  Platt  sent  him  an  invitation 
to  make  her  a  visit.  This  is  his  reply  : — 

GAMBIER,  June  21,  1860. 
Mv  DEAR  JEANETTE  : — 

I  was  grateful  for  your  very  kind  note,  received  just  as  I  left 
home,  on  Friday,  last  week.  I  was  engaged  on  Sunday  for  Cleve- 
land, but  a  breaking  up  of  two  trains  on  the  road  detained  us  for 
four  hours,  and  I  was  obliged  to  spend  Sunday  in  Pittsburg.  I 
came  here  on  Monday,  where  I  have  been  lecturing  to  the  students 
in  the  seminary,  twice  a  day,  through  the  whole  week.  To-morrow 
I  have  three  engagements,  and  must  return  home  on  Monday.  I 
should  have  great  pleasure  in  visiting  you  if  it  were  possible.  But 
I  find  no  convenience  in  getting  to  you  from  here,  and  my  engage- 
ments at  home  compel  my  haste.  I  am  e.ven  more  immersed  and 
overwhelmed  in  labors  as  age  comes  upon  me. 

Cares  in  great  numbers  come  upon  me,  and  though  memories  of 
the  past  are  very  pleasant,  and  anticipations  of  the  future  are  still 
brighter,  I  am  not  without  a  share  in  the  annoyances  and  trials  of 
life.  I  feel  always  sure,  however,  that  it  is  resistance  which  makes 
affliction,  and  that  perfect  submission  to  God's  will  is  and  must  be 
perfect  peace. 

Speak  of  rne  kindly  to  your  husband,  and  teach  your  children 
to  know  me,  and  do  not  yourself  forget 

Your  faithful  and  loving  friend, 

STEPHEN  H.  TYNG. 


120  DR.    TYNG — A    GRATEFUL   HEART. 

FROM  DR.  TYNG. 

NEW  YORK,  July  21,  1860. 
MY  DEAR  JEANETTE  : — 

Your  letter  was  a  great  pleasure  and  comfort  to  me.  Amidst  the 
snows  of  winter  few  flowers  bloom:  for  love  extended  to  age  the 
heart  is  peculiarly  grateful.  You  were  always  attractive  and  dear 
as  a  girl;  but,  when  we  were  acquainted,  you  were  encompassed 
also  with  friends  and  family,  who  were  very  dear,  too.  Many  have 
gone;  many  have  changed  their  relations  to  us.  New  scenes  and 
new  persons  have  been  thrown  around  us  both.  But  your  tender 
remembrance  of  me  is  the  more  grateful  amidst  this  revolution. 

I  am  rejoicing  to  hear  of  your  contentment  and  happiness,  though 
God  has  been  pleased  apparently  to  make  your  circumstances 
moderate.  I  pray  that  your  children  may  have  much  cause  to  rise 
up  and  call  you  blessed.  To  train  a  family  for  Christ  and  glory 
is  no  small  responsibility.  The  Lord  bless  you  in  all  He  has 
given  you. 

Your  kind  notice  of  my  one  book  in  your  possession  leads  me*  to 
add  three  more  of  mine,  which  I  have  sent  by  express 

Let  us  purpose  in  a  simple  purpose  to  live  for  Jesus,  to  drink  of 
His  cup,  and  to  be  baptized  with  His  baptism,  as  He  shall  deem 
best.  He  is  to  be  honored  by  us ;  the  way  is  of  little  consequence. 
He  can  do  us  no  harm  in  any  way.  Let  us  love  to  glorify  Him. 

Love'to  your  husband  and  children. 

Your  ever  faithful  friend, 

STEPHEN  H.  TYNG. 

HER  FIRST  LETTER  TO  MR.  DAMON  AFTER  HER  MARRIAGE— 
A  RENEWAL  OF  THE  CORRESPONDENCE. 

DELAWARE,  OHIO,  January  14,  1861. 
REV.  S.  C.  DAMON  [HONOLULU.] 

MY  DEAR  OLD  FRIEND: — "There  is  a  Providence  that  shapes 
our  ends."  Does  not  the  same  guide  the  pen? — prompt  it?  Or 
why  should  I  write  to  you  to-day?  My  heart  is  not  a  bit  warmer, 
truer,  or  more  full  of  interest  for  you  and  yours,  than  it  has  been 
these  twenty-two  years.  The  desire  and  intention  to  write  is  no 


DR.    DAMON — HISTORY   OF   HOLDEN.  121 

stronger  than  for  five  years,  since  when  your  last  has  been  looking  me 
in  the  face  every  time  my  portfolio  opened.  Here  are  the  "second 
causes."  Delaware,  Ohio,  a  half-country,  half-village  home;  din- 
ner time;  a  pattering  rain,  with  January  sleet,  all  over  the  lawn 
and  old  oak  trees ;  a  bright  wood  fire  in  the  little  back  bedroom — 
aunty's*  room.  A  dear  old  aunt  in  the  great  focking-chair,  with 
knitting  and  newspaper  on  the  stand  at  her  elbow.  A  plate,  with 
knife  and  half-pared  great  apple,  is  brought  in  from  the  dinner- 
table  by  a  little  "  mother,"  who  fills  the  small  rocking-chair,  coax- 
ing "  father"  to  sit  down  and  eat  his  apple,  too.  "  No,  must  get 
back  to  business." 

The  door  closes,  and  the  apple-paring  goes  on  for  one  minute  ; 
put  down  to  open  the  door  for  a  three-year  old  curly  head,  leading 

in  baby  F ,  fourteen  months  old  to-day.  The  latter,  after 

pulling  about  the  tongs,  and  trying  to  get  the  shovel,  was  sent  off 
to  the  dining-room  to  get  dinner  with  his  nurse,  Mary.  The  former, 
never  still,  climbed  up  into  the  rocking-chair,  and  made  piano  of 
mother's  back.  Then  the  apple  was  finished,  divided,  and  handed 
round  with  the  remark,  "Only  think,  Aunt  Clara,  that  young  lady 
I  met  the  other  evening,  just  from  Connecticut,  never  heard  of 
Holden,  Mass.,  or  Oxford!  I  was  hunting  up  something  to  say 
to  the  Quaker  stranger,  and  spoke  of  dear  old  friends  coming  from 
these  places.  Martha's  old  school  friend,  Celia  Campbell,  came 
from  Oxford,  and  my  Honolulu  friend,  Mr.  Damon,  from  Holden. 
Do  you  know  anything  about  Holden?  Why,  I  have  a  book  on 

the  shelves  that  will  tell  about  it!  Jump  down,  H ;  let  me 

get  it, — 'History  of  Holden.'  '  Jeanette  and  Martha,  with  the 
author's  kind  regards,  1841.'  You  must  see  the  letter  he  wrote 
me,  June  24,  1846,  so  very  kind  and  brotherly.  It  is  in  my  port- 
folio. I  have  been  always  going  to  answer  it."  With  moistened 
eyes  the  letter  was  read,  and  then  the  pen  came  on  this  sheet,  and 
would  turn  words  to  say,  "Just  as  warm  and  true  is  the  regard 
(why  not  say  affection  ?)  'Jeanette'  retains  for  her  friend,  '  S.  C. 
D.,'  this  day,  as  when  they  rambled  over  the  lanes  and  fields  of 
old  Burlington,  or  knelt  together  in  the  little  Presbyterian  prayer- 
meeting  :  just  the  same." 

The  form,  the  features,  and  heart  of  my  old  friend  are  before 

*  Her  husband's  Aunt  Clara. 


122  A    PEEP   AT   MY    CHILDREN. 

me,  fresh  as  in  daily  intercourse.  It  seems  as  if  he  could  step  in 
this  very  afternoon  and  take  that  vacant  chair.  How  pleased  and 
interested  in  this  old  aunt  he  would  be,  to  hear  her  say,  as  she  did 
to  me  just  now,  "Tell  him  I  am  just  as  much  interested  in  his 
Holden  history  as  if  I  was  a  Massachusetts  woman."  Ah,  there 
are  hearts  that  never  grow  old  !  and  this  aunty  is  one  of  them.  Old 
age  is  beautiful  in  her.  In  the  hushed  evening  hour  He  spares  her 
to  us  to  show  us  how  full  of  comfort  and  support  He  can  make 
life's  close,  when  from  the  days  of  youth  the  Creator  has  been 
remembered.  (Here  she  comes  to  my  table,  looking  for  a  pencil 
to  make  some  extracts  from  your  book.)  Twenty  years  taken  down, 
dusted,  and  put  back,  has  this  little  book  passed  through  my  hands, 
scarcely  opened  ;  now  it  comes  fresh  with  interest,  almost  hal- 
lowed with  never-dying  associations  of  the  past.  Yes,  never-dying  ! 
My  precious  sister  1  it  seems  but  yesterday  that  we  three  were 
together. 

You  want  to  take  a  peep  at  my  children?  I  wish  you  could  after 
they  are  all  asleep  for  the  night ;  that  is  the  time  I  most  enjoy 
looking  at  them.  Come  up  into  the  boys'  room,  and  see  if  they 
are  not  two  fine-looking  fellows.  No  need  to  step  lightly  ;  school 
all  day,  with  skating  and  sliding,  and  home  chores,  give  sound 
slumber.  Is  not  that  shaggy  head  big  enough  for  a  Webster? 
Sound-looking  enough  for  a  President?  I  hope  not.  Their  mother's 
only  prayerful  wish  is,  that  God  will  accept  her  boys ;  call  and  fit 
them  for  ambassadors  for  Christ.  This  is  quiet,  thoughtful  H. 
See  mirthful,  laughter-loving  F.  !  His  face  is  hardly  at  rest  even 
when  asleep ;  arm  over  his  brother's  neck,  promptings  of  a  heart 

full  of  affection.  His  hair  is  soft  and  light,  with  blue  eyes.  H 

has  soft,  brown  eyes, — the  gentle  expression,  some  think,  of  his 
Aunt  Martha.  His  hair  is  as  brown  as  his  mother's  used  to  be. 

But  come  across  the  hall  and  see  our  girls.  Take  them  to  your 
heart  as  your  own,  too,  if  God  has  not  lent  you  any.  E.,  my  eld- 
est, first  born  !  words  can  never  tell  how  dear  is  this  child  to  me. 
I  have  from  the  first  hour  of  taking  her  to  my  bosom  tried  to  hold 
her  lightly,  as  loaned  a  little  while  only,  to  be  trained  for  the 
Master's  service,  here  or  there,  as  He  will.  Should  her  life  be  pro- 
longed you  may  have  her  as  a  fellow-worker  for  Christ  in  the  Sand- 
wich Islands.  Shall  she  be  educated  for  a  teacher?  or  what  post 
will  you  assign  her?  I  could  not  let  her  go  to  any  other  foreign 


ANOTHER   JEANETTE   HULME.  123 

field  without  much  grace  being  given;  but  your  Islands  have  seemed 
very  near  and  very  inviting  ever  since  you  made  home  there.  And 
the  little  fingers  have  traced  out  their  bearings  ever  since  the 
geography  came  into  her  hands.  "O  mother,  do  write  that  letter 
to  your  friend  Mr.  Damon!"  she  has  said  a  thousand  times. 

This  little  sister  by  her  side,  J.  we  call  her,  but  she  has  not  a  bit 
of  mother  about  her;  very  beautiful  as  a  baby,  but  now  baby  loveli- 
ness has  given  place  to  a  strong-willed,  determined,  quiet,  self- 
reliant  look.  "Our  oaken  twig,"  I  often  call  her,  and  wonder 
what  are  the  storms  and  tempests  that  little  heart  is  to  brave.  With 
religious  principle  she  will  be  fully  able  to  bear  all  that  the  provi- 
dence of  God  lays  upon  her.  Will  you  have  her,  too  ? 

But  here  in  the  nursery  come.  Here  is  your  old  friend  herself, 
with  curly  head,  nestled  among  the  pillows — I  cannot  describe  her. 
In  her  I  see  myself  as  others  see  me.  God  sparing  her  life  there 
will  be  another  Jeanette  Hulme.  Will  you  like  her? 

And  now  the  crib.  Ah,  this  is  the  child  among  them  all ! 
Months  of  ill  health  and  tedious  confinement  to  the  house  and 
couch  preceded  the  birth  of  this  precious  baby  boy.  His  mother 
looks  upon  him  as  coming  for  some  special  mercy  and  comfort, 
and  regards  him  as  all  the  Lord's.  I  wish  you  could  see  him — see 
us  all !  Now,  my  children  are  just  like  all  other  children,  doubt- 
less, only  in  their  mothers'  eyes.  Remember  this,  and  when  you 
come  to  see  them  don't  expect  too  much.  You  know  well  just 
what  an  impulsive,  undisciplined  mother  they  have. 

Twenty-two  years! — the  changes,  "sundry  and  manifold  changes 
of  the  world,"  as  one  of  our  collects  beautifully  says — what  record 
shall  this  page  bear?  "Whoso  offereth  thanks  he  honoreth  me;" 
with  thanksgiving  must  begin  and  end  all  my  testimony  of  "all 
the  way  which  the  Lord  God  hath  led  me  these  forty  years,"  to 
humble  and  prove  me.  Ah,  dear  friend,  I  am  the  same  ;  I  have 
only  all  this  time  been  learning  more  and  more  of  His  long-suffer- 
ing patience.  Oh,  the  power,  the  fulness,  the  preciousness  of  a 
Saviour's  love  !  The  thirteen  years  of  married  life  have  been  full 
of  blessings,  though  chequered  with  care  and  disappointment  in 
regard  to  outward  prosperity.  My  husband  is  not  rich;  a  golden 
portion  is  not  to  be  our  lot,  I  often  assure  him.  But  that  does  not 
belong  to  happiness.  Discipline,  trial,  must  come  in  some  form ; 
and  want  of  riches  is  the  very  least  ill  earth  can  know. 


124  KENYON    COLLEGE. 

What  of  the  outward  changes  in  your  old  friend  Jeanette?  She 
often  gives  a  look,  not  a  sigh,  saying,  "This  is  Mrs.  Platt,  I  suppose." 
Jeanette  Hulme  has  gone,  I  told  you  ;  you  may  find  her  hereafter 
in  her  daughter  H.  I  do  not  know  that  the  mother  is  sobered  a 
whit;  and  if  the  eye  is  dimmed,  so  that  I  hear  talk  of  "spectacles 
coming,"  not  a  sunbeam  can  stray  into  her  apartment,  or  flower 
open  at  her  feet  with  tint  unseen  or  unfelt.  The  chestnut  curls  are 
gone,  turned  into  thin  bands  that  are  marbled  over  with  silver 
threads.  Never  mind  ;  in  half  an  hour's  time  you  would  get  used 
to  all  changes,  and  have  just  as  pleasant  times  with  her  as  twenty- 
two  years  ago.  Come,  try  it.  Is  it  not  time  to  visit  the  States 
again?  Does  not  friend  Julia  want  to  see  her  friend  again?  Is  it 
not  time  to  bring  the  boys  for  school  to  prepare  for  college  ?  Their 
college  is  in  Ohio,  Gambier,  Knox  County,  good  for  sound  learn- 
ing, better  for  healthy  moral  influences,  best  for  the  quickening 
graces  of  the  Holy  Spirit  that  year  after  year  are  showered  upon 
that  institution.  There  is  a  good  grammar  school  connected  with 
it.  May  I  not  have  your  boys  to  go  to  school,  and  spend  vacations 
with  me?  I  will  make  them  Episcopalians?  Certainly.  Their 
father  ought  to  have  been  one.(?)  I  have  learned  to  value  our 
church  more  and  more,  year  by  year;  not  others  less,  but  her 
more.  What  has  become  of  your  prayer-book?  Don't  you  want 
a  new  one?  Is  the  "Daily  Food"  worn  out?  Mine  is  now  open 
before  me,  the  daily  companion  since  childhood.  This  little  col- 
lection from  the  "exceeding  great  and  precious  promises,"  how 
enriched  and  hallowed  by  associations  of  the  past !  What  helpers 
in  time  of  need !  The  Psalms  for  the  day,  as  appointed  in  the 
prayer-book,  have  made  my  daily  Bible  reading  now  for  the  last 
few  years.  Meet  me  here  with  fervent  prayer  for  each  other's 
soul's  welfare,  and  for  the  families  committed  to  our  care. 

I  say  nothing  on  the  state  of  our  beloved  country,  so  torn  with 
dissensions  ;  the  newspapers  can  better  show  you  this.  God  reign- 
eth.  I  am,  though  no  longer  a  Quaker,  nor  a  "peace"  woman, 
yet  for  peace,  and  tell  my  husband  we  will  run  away  to  Canada  or 
the  Sandwich  Islands. 

But  I  must  stop ;  my  pen  has  run  freely  as  if  you  were  at  my 
side.  Can  you  read  these  outpourings  of  an  old  friend's  heart? 


s.  c.  D. — THE  SEAMAN'S  CHAPLAIN.  125 

TO  REV.  S.  C.  DAMON. 

DELAWARE,  OHIO,  September  4,  1861. 
MY  DEAR  FRIEND  : — 

It  is  just  three  months  to-day  since  you  came  (for  your  package 
was  like  a  visit  from  yourself).  The  pleasant  picture,  so  very 
pleasant  to  see  again,  though  its  original  can  be  no  more  fresh  in 
recollection  than  before.  I  know  just  how  you  looked — look. 
There  are  faces  that  never  grow  older  in  expression,  and  I  am  sure 
Julia  says  yours  is  one  of  these.  I  see  the  preacher  in  my  picture, 
and  the  echo  of  his  Sabbath  duties  seems  yet  on  his  heart  as  he 
rests  in  the  artist's  chair.  I  see  no  trace  of  years  or  care ;  only 
the  sober,  tranquillized  mark  of  holy  work;  the  seal  of  Christ's 
ambassador.  It  seems  to  me  I  never  saw  you  sit  still  long  enough 
to  make  a  picture ;  and  if  the  body  rested,  the  countenance  was 
ever  changing,  and  the  lips  never  quiet  in  repose.  I  believe  you 
were  almost  as  great  a  talker  as  I.  Julia  will  tell  me,  "That  is 
just  like  him  now."  I  know  it,  am  quite  sure  my  picture  tells  more 
than  the  truth  about  his  sobriety.  Even  in  the  pulpit,  although  I 
never  saw  him  there,  I  know  just  how  he  looks,  in  spite  of  the 
picture's  tale.  "It  is  his  father!"  was  the  first  exclamation,  as  I 
took  it  from  the  envelope.  Not  a  bit  of  age  about  it;  every  feature 
just  as  when  I  said  good-bye,  long  years  ago ;  but  calm,  quiet  re- 
flection, where  I  had  only  seen  the  living,  changing  light  of  warm, 
impulsive  thought  and  action.  "The  Seaman's  Chaplain"  ought 
to  be  just  as  the  picture  tells  !  I  don't  believe  he  is,  in  spite  of  all 
endeavors.  I  never  saw  "the  Chaplain!"  I  know  that,  I  know 
that,  and  so  am  so  glad  and  thankful  for  your  kind  thought  of 

sending  the  picture.    And  now  I  want  the  boys,  one  by  one,'S , 

E ,  F ,  and  W ,  as  you  are  willing  to  spare  their  pic- 
tures to  me.  I  suspect  that  I  shall  find  my  young  companion, 
"  S.  C.  D.,"  among  them,  in  parts  or  as  a  whole,  more  than  in 
the  calm,  reflective  Chaplain's  face,  now  before  me.  Let  me  see 
for  myself.  It  is  said  if  children  in  feature  resemble  one  parent, 
in  character  they  are  like  the  other.  I  have  a  yearning  desire  to 
see  S ,  your  eldest.  I  saw  his  name  enrolled  among  your  col- 
lege youth,  and  said,  "  Can  it  be  ?  His  father  seemed  but  as  a 
college  youth  the  other  day  !" 


126  A    NURSERY    MOTHER. 

Why  have  I  delayed  this  answer  so  long — three  months  ?  You 
have  asked  that  question  so  many  times  as  I  have  passed  by  from 
my  nursery  mantel ;  but,  when  I  have  stopped  and  looked,  I  have 
not  seen  impatience  or  reproach,  but  the  same  appreciating,  sym- 
pathizing look  that  would  greet  me,  had  you  in  reality  just  come 
in  and  sat  down  with  my  little  group.  I  am  a  nursery  mother ;  six 
little  ones  keep  me  very  close,  and  all  out-door  duty  is  left  for  some 
one  else  to  do.  This  summer  my  work  has  been  nursing  the  sick, 
first  one  little  one  and  then  another.  As  I  have  said,  all  this  you 
have  seen  (through  your  picture),  and  many  a  cheering,  helping 
word  seemed  given  by  the  old  friend  of  youthful  days.  I  tbink  I 
hear  you  say,  "Look  not  on  the  things  which  are  seen."  "We 
walk  by  faith."  "We  have  not  an  high  priest  which  cannot  be 
touched  with  the  feeling  of  our  infirmities."  "Looking  unto  Jesus," 
Jeanette,  "so  let  us  run."  Yes,  a  glance  at  the  well-remembered 
face  has  helped  through  many  a  weary  hour  of  nursery  duty  and 
indisposition.  So  you  and  Julia  may  learn  how  even  the  picture 
of  a  Christian  brother  can  do  good. 

I  seem  to  see  and  know  all  your  boys.  Never  fear  for  F , 

"the  doll-lover."  His  gentleness  will  be  a  shield,  and  his  affec- 
tionate, domestic  disposition  make  mother  and  sisters  wherever  he 
goes.  Our  precious  brother  James  was  such  a  child  as  your  boy. 
I  have  never  met  such  another  character  in  man  as  was  his, — so 
noble,  pure,  and  manly.  "To  the  pure  all  things  are  pure,"  and 
I  think  the  world  deals  kindly  by  such.  I  have  much  more  fear 
for  those  independent  boys  who  have  always  seemed  above  pets. 
Your  family  circle  seems  complete  in  comfort  and  happiness.  I 
am  sure  our  island  friend  is  a  happy,  and  ought  to  be  a  most  thank- 
ful, man 

I  really  feel  like  lingering  about  this  page,  as  loath  to  shut  the 
study-door  where  I  have  made  a  call,  although  I  know  time  is  pre- 
cious, and  I  have  already  made  a  long  visit  to  my  friend.  I  can- 
not make  you  know  how  near  to  us  Honolulu  seems  since  your 
letter  came.  If  I  were  rich  I  know  well  you  should  soon  see  hus- 
band, six  babies,  and  all  at  your  door.  I  would  just  "  flee  away" 
from  this  torn,  distracted  country,  bleeding  away  her  very  life- 
blood.  I  will  not  write  upon  this  theme,  the  newspapers  will  give 
you  every  particular.  You  will  remember  your  own  country  on 
the  coming  fast-day  (September  26),  I  know. 


TWILIGHT   PLEASURES.  127 

Nurse  has  just  taken  baby  F off  for  a  walk  to  see  his  grandma. 

He  is  just  beginning  to  talk — the  sweetest  baby  age.  H has 

gone,  too.  J is  laughing  away  under  the  trees  below  my  win- 
dow, trying  to  fix  up  a  great  flag  of  her  brother's.  E •  says 

she  is  going  to  write  herself  to  you.  She  is  but  a  careless  writer, 
as  you  will  see,  although  a  good  student  when  in  school. 

What  are  those  trees  about  the  Bethel  and  Sailors'  Home?  They 
look  like  elms.  Do  you  have  such  beautiful  autumns  as  we  ?  Such 
changing  verdure  ?  Do  you  have  any  of  our  out-door  sounds,  so 
pleasant  to  my  ear  at  twilight,  seeming  to  sing  of  autumn's  ap- 
proach and  the  past  summer's  ripe  old  age?  My  favorite  cricket, 
and  other  tiny  humming  things,  do  you  have  them  ? 


128  PHILADELPHIA. 


XIII. 

"  But  the  very  hairs  of  your  head  are  all  numbered." 

Trip  to  Philadelphia — General  E An  agreeable  travelling  companion — 

Brookfield — Burlington  —  Kindly  greeting — Not  a  day  older— Contentment. 
September  to  November,  1863. 

THURSDAY,  September  17,  1863,  Mrs.  Platt  started  for  Philadel- 
phia, taking  her  son  H with  her  as  escort  and  companion.  Her 

health  was  much  impaired,  and  the  trip  was  made  on  that  account 
and  to  visit  Eastern  friends.  The  following  letters  were  written  to 
her  husband : — 

PHILADELPHIA,  SPRUCE  STREET,  September  19,  1863. 

A  child's  gleeful  voice  below  my  window  makes  me,  oh,  so 
hungry  for  my  own  home  babies  !  How  I  longed  for  F.'s  pattering 
feet  and  M.'s  calling  papa,  papa,  this  morning!  And  dear  N. 's 
morning  face — each  and  all.  There  is  no  home  without  you  all ! 

My  eye  is  very  weak  from  the  tire  of  the  journey,  and  I  cannot 
write  long. 

We  arrived  safe  and  well  at  five  o'clock  last  evening.  John, 
Anna,  and  Fred.  W.  were  at  the  depot. 

At  Crestline  we  went  first  and  selected  our  seats,  which  I  took 
while  H.  went  to  the  ticket  office.  When  he  was  gone  I  said  to  a 
passenger,  "  Do  we  check  our  baggage  in  or  out  of  the  cars  ?"  He 
instantly  arose  and  asked,  "  Can  I  do  anything  for  you,  Madam?" 
1  replied,  "I  am  afraid  my  little  boy  may  forget  about  the  bag- 
gage." "Let  me  go, — describe  him,"  and  away  he  sprang.  In 
a  few  moments  he  was  back,  and  we  were  off.  He  had  met  H. 
getting  in  the  car  without  thinking  of  the  baggage,  and  found  the 
two  trunks  put  away  as  uncalled-for  baggage  !  Only  by  making 
the  porter,  with  his  commanding  manner  (feather,  hat,  and  officer's 
uniform),  could  he  get  our  trunks  at  all.  '•  What  a  silly  wife  and 
boy,"  you  will  say.  Never  mind.  The  almost  mishap  gave  us 


AN   AGREEABLE   COMPANION.  129 

one  of  the  most  gentlemanly  and  kindest  escorts  I  ever  had,  Gen- 
eral E ,  from  the  command  of  the  fleet  on  the  Mississippi.  I 

could  fill  my  letter  in  telling  you  of  his  pleasant  attentions  and  our 
talks.  I  showed  my  colors,  of  course,  and  found  he  had  just  such 
"treason"  at  home  in  his  Philadelphia  wife.  When  a  child  he 
lived  just  below  Burlington,  on  the  opposite  side  of  our  river.  His 
father  was  a  Quaker!  His  wife  an  Episcopalian.  When  fifteen 
years  old  he  and  his  brother  went  to  Illinois,  and  settled  at  Bunker 
Hill.  He  was  now  on  his  way  to  Philadelphia  to  see  an  aged 
mother,  eighty-four,  "a  most  wonderful  woman;  no  son  could 
stay  long  away  from  her,"  as  he  said.  She  had  lost  the  staff  of 
her  old  age  in  an  elder  brother,  that  fell  in  this  war  last  spring. 
Yet,  though  her  heart  was  crushed,  she  only  longed  for  more  sons 
to  battle  for  their  country  !  There,  that  is  patriotism  enough  for 
you  ! 

Before  we  separated  the  General  asked  me  to  call  and  see  his 
mother,  and  said  the  acquaintance  should  not  end  for  any  fault  of 
his!     I  thanked  him   in   your  stead,  and  said,   "My  husband  is  • 
greatly  indebted  to  you  for  his  wife's  comfort  and  pleasure  of  this 
journey." 

He  will  call  here,  if  possible,  but  has  but  a  few  days — three  or 
four — and  then  must  go  back  to  duty.  He  is  about  forty-five,  "  a  real 
Western  man,"  he  affirms,  though  so  much  to  and  from  Philadel- 
phia, visiting  his  mother  and  old-home  relations.  His  wife  is  a 
member  of  Dr.  Neville's  congregation.  They  have  no  church  near 
them,  but  she  can  never  lose  her  attachment  to  her  church.  He 
was  so  simple  and  unobtrusive  in  manner,  and  yet  so  interesting 
and  entertaining.  Was  it  not  pleasant  for  me  !  His  home  is  an 
hour  and  a  half's  ride  from  St.  Louis,  and  we  are  to  call  on  our 

way  to  uncle  W 's.     The  oddest  part  of  the  coincidence  is, 

that  when  I  came  to  tell  John  about  him,  it  proves  that  John's  most 

intimate  friend's  wife  and  General  E 's  wife  are  sisters.     So 

John  will  call  on  him  this  evening,  if  possible.  His  mother  is  a 
sister  of  Colonel  Davenport's  widow, — "superior  family,"  sister 
says. 

But  about  the  journey.    We  did  not  get  to  Pittsburg  till  9  o'clock  ; 

"missed  connection  ;"  had  to  go  to  a  hotel  and  wait  till  3  o'clock 

in  the  morning.     But  the  four  hours'  rest  was  so  refreshing  to  me. 

Here  the  General  was  so  pleasant,  getting  the  room,  selecting  his 

9 


130  MOUNTAIN    SCENERY. 

own  near,  that  we  might  feel  his  protection,  if  we  needed  any- 
thing ;  going  with  us  to  our  door,  and  calling  for  us  next  morn- 
ing ;  showing  H.  how  to  pay  his  bill,  and  learn  to  be  "escort  to 
a  lady,"  in  such  a  fatherly  way. 

I  was  so  glad  we  missed  connection ;  this  gave  us  the  mountain 
scenery  by  daylight.  Ah,  I  cannot  make  you  know  how  my  eyes 
feasted  on  the  glorious  sight.  It  rained,  forcing  down  the  clouds 
upon  the  valleys,  hung  the  mountain -tops  with  fleecy  mist,  then 
dim  sunshine  painted  the  clouds  above.  You  must  see  to  under- 
stand what  we  enjoyed  !  From  Harrisburg  we  had  sunshine 
spreading  such  beauty  over  the  farming  landscape.  How  H.  en- 
joyed the  sight  of  the  "great  barns,"  "  big  rivers,  bridges,"  etc.  ! 

September  25,  ...  Yesterday  we  all  took  tea  with  cousin 
Thomas  Hayes.  How  I  wanted  thee  with  me,  to  see  the  pretty 
Quaker  cap  on  a  young  cousin,  Elizabeth  Hulme,  invited  to  meet 
us.  We  are  invited  to  take  tea  with  her  next  "third  day." 

BURLINGTON,  October  5,  1863. 

I  wished  so  much  to  write  to  you  on  Saturday,  but  it  was  impos- 
sible in  daylight,  and  I  do  not  use  my  eyes  after.  There  is  so  much 
I  shall  have  to  leave  to  tell  "  face  to  face,"  you  are  so  constantly 
in  my  thoughts.  When  going  about  old  Brookfield,  how,  how  I 
longed  for  your  presence,  to  cheer  and  comfort,  under  the  tide  of 
sad  recollections  !  The  day  proved  cold  and  drizzling ;  everything 
seemed  in  unison.  The  cloud  that  fell  over  the  beautiful  country 
home,  when  our  beloved  father  was  borne  away,  lingers  as  on  that 
day.  The  lawn  has  been  beautified  in  these  years ;  shrubbery 
grown,  and  vines  planted  by  my  own  hand.  Honeysuckles  have 
climbed  to  the  chamber  windows,  and  the  ivy  to  the  roof.  A  hand- 
some tenement- house  stands  near  "  Caroline's  kitchen  j"  but  the 
lady  owner  met  us  in  mournful  dress  and  tearful  eyes,  with  almost 
the  first  words,  "  Oh,  how  we  want  to  sell,  Mrs.  Platt !  we  have 
known  so  much  sorrow  I  cannot  stay."  Three  times  death  has 
entered.  So,  like  our  family  and  Dudley  Tyng's,  they  had  found 
the  pressure  of  sorrow  obliging  them  to  leave. 

H.  seemed  much  interested,  went  by  himself,  tell  N. ,  to  the 
spring-house,  where  she  watched  the  butter- making,  and  all  over 
the  great  barn,  with  its  "  marble  sills,"  etc. 


BURLINGTON — SO    LITTLE    CHANGED.  13! 

How  beautiful  is  this  dear  old  place,  Burlington,  with  its  great 
shade-trees  and  quiet  homes  !  How  I  wish  you  were  with  me  to 
enjoy  the  greetings  !  Everybody  exclaims,  "  How  well  you  look !" 
I  do  believe  they  think  my  husband  the  best  care-taker  in  the 
world.  Indeed,  dearest,  I  am  very  much  better ;  every  day,  for 
the  past  week,  seemed  to  add  to  my  strength.  Oh,  I  do  so  hope 
to  come  back  and  be  well  enough  to  pay,  in  some  measure,  for  all 
the  sacrifice  you  now  make. 

BURLINGTON,  October  12,  1863. 

If  you  do  not  write  often,  your  letters  are  worth  so  much  when 
they  do  come  !  Many  thanks  for  yours  of  4th,  nine  long  pages. 
[Here  she  writes  about  Rev.  Mr.  Noakes'  coming  to  Delaware,  and 
describes  his  family.  Suggests  to  call  Mr.  Ufford.] 

How  I  long  to  see  thee  again  ! — sometimes  almost  impatient,  and 
want  to  hurry  through  the  rest  of  my  visit.  But  it  would  be  a  pity 
not  to  try  to  see  all  who  are  expecting  to  see  me.  You  cannot 
imagine  how  much  pleasure  this  visit  gives.  I  tell  them  there  is 
quite  a  sunny  side  to  staying  away  so  long.  And  these  sixteen 
years  have  really  passed  more  lightly  over  me  than  any  one  per- 
son I  have  met!  (So  much  in  praise  of  my  husband's  care.) 
Notwithstanding  all  that  has  been  heard  of  the  cares,  reverses, 
and  vexations  of  "  Jeanette  Hulme's"  married  life,  "out  in  the 
West,"  I  hear  not  one  word  of  all  this  now.  I  am  surprised  to 
hear  all  the  astonishment  expressed  at  my  appearance,  "so  little 
changed  !"  (of  course  you  know  that  means  compared  with  other 
people.) 

Poor  John's  delight  is  really  childish  to  have  me  with  him 
again;  and  no  "body  about"  makes  it  seem  to  him  "like  old 
times."  I  have  several  times  bowed  to  persons  (gentlemen, — old 
faces,  remember),  and  they  have  given  a  bewildered  look,  and 
returned,  "Good-morning,  Miss  Hulme!" 

Saturday  evening  we  took  tea  with  an  old  friend,  and  she  said, 
"  Put  down  the  curls,  and  we  have  her  just  the  same  as  twenty 
years  ago." 

Now,  I  have  given  you  all  this  nonsense  just  because  it  is  about 
your  wife,  and  that  you  may  know  she  has  much  improved  in 
health  by  all  your  privations  in  sparing  her 

How  does  poor  M.  get  on  with  no  mother?  And  E.,  is  she 
most  tired  out  ? 


1 32  VACANT    CHAIRS. 

PHILADKLPHIA,  October  23d,  1863. 

We  returned  from  Pennsylvania  to  Burlington  yesterday,  and 
found  yours  of  Sunday  waiting  me.  Many  thanks  for  its  cheer- 
ful, bright  strain,  which  cheered  me  so  much  about  home.  It  does 
seem  so  dreadful  for  a  mother  to  be  so  far  from  such  a  wee,  wee 
baby,  as  our  darling.  I  sometimes  feel  I  cannot  stay  from  her 
another  moment. 

.  .  .  .  Is  it  worth  while  to  inquire  the  price  of  carpets  in 
Philadelphia,  or  can  we  get  along  without  any,  even  if  we  do 
move?  Darling  husband,  I  think  I  "hate"  a  bare  floor,  ugly 
house,  and  shabby  furniture,  as  much  as  any  one  can  ;  yet,  so  sure 
am  I  these  things  have  nothing  to  do  with  happiness,  I  can  be 
thankful,  most  thankful,  without  them,  and  look  back  and  know, 
"  for  richer,  for  poorer,  for  better,  for  worse,"  my  lot  has  been  a 
blessed  one  with  thee. 

I  cannot  make  you  understand  how  this  has  been  again  and  again 
impressed  upon  me,  as  I  have  gone  from  house  to  house  of  these 
cousins.  I  believe  there  is  not  one  fireside  that  has  no  vacant 
chair,  no  home  that  death  has  not  entered ;  and  I  hear  the  same 
story  from  each,  and  see  the  quivering  lip  and  tearful'  eye  of 
agony. 

Almost  all  of  these  young  cousins  have  beautiful  homes  of  their 
own,  but  what  care  I  for  this?  Would  I  exchange  our  unbroken 
•band  for  houses,  or  lands,  or  anything^earth  can  give?  God  has 
blessed  my  married  life  above  all  others  I  have  seen  here,  though 
He  has  withheld  wealth. 

WEST  PHILADELPHIA,  November  7,  1863. 

What  a  letter  was  yours  of  the  4th,  so  full  of  comfort  and  en- 
couragement !  Just  every  word  I  needed — better  than  a  thousand 
"doctors."  I  have  been  quiet  and  resting  all  the  week,  and  am 
much  better.  It  was  all  "over-tax"  of  strength  not  fully  estab- 
lished. Your  bright,  patient,  loving  letter,  will  complete  the  cure. 
I  trust  I  will  not  "  fix  the  day" — as  you  say,  "Do  not" — but  hope 
to  see  you  the  last  of  next  week 

Aunt  Price  sends  her  "love,"  and  says,  "  Tell  him  he  is  the 
second  best  husband  ever  was."  How  they  all  want  to  see  you  ! 

[She  returned  home  Saturday,  November  i4th,  "looking  well, 
but  has  not  recovered  her  nervous  strength,"  as  my  journal  has  it.] 


HOSPITALITY.  133 


XIV. 

"Every  wise  woman  buildeth  her  house.     She  openeth  her  mouth  with  wisdom, 
and  in  her  tongue  is  the  law  of  kindness." 

A  hospitable  house — Death  of  her  husband's  mother — Letters  to  her  daughter 
E. — Her  husband — Rev.  Dr.  Damon — Not  a  Yankee  woman  born  to  com- 
mand— Numerous  household  duties,  sixteen  knees  and  one  hundred  toes — 
To  her  son  H.,  on  the  importance  of  a  Godly  life — To  S.  C.  D. —  Model 
friendship,  warm,  pure,  and  true  —  Visit  from  Samuel  Damon — Letter  to 
Brother  John — Floating  island  —  Pictures  of  her  children — Not  "book  chil- 
dren"— A  happy  family — Views  of  dancing — To  Rev.  S.  C.  D. — Her  daughter 
E.  in  New  York — A  happy  Christmas  —  Attention  to  Mr.  P y — He  be- 
comes interested  in  the  P.  E.  Church — Gift  of  a  Prayer  Book — Birthday  letter 
to  her  daughter  E. — Delightful  visit  from  Rev.  Dr.  Damon,  wife,  and  son, 
and  Rev.  Dr.  Canfield — To  L.  E.  S. — Matrimony — Mistakes  and  missteps — 
Happiness  not  the  great  object  of  life — A  fearful  venture — No  true  union  of 
hearts  and  hands  without  God's  blessing.  September,  1864,  to  January,  1872. 

MRS.  PLATT'S  house  was  ever  the  home  of  hospitality,  and  was 
not  long  at  a  time  without  one  or  more  guests — either  her  own  or 
her  children's  friends.  She  used  to  say  she  would  much  rather 
entertain  than  visit  her  friends.  Nothing  seemed  to  give  her  more 
real  pleasure  than  to  have  a  house  full  of  guests.  Her  inexhaustible 
fund  of  conversation,  her  genuine  kindness  of  heart,  and  her  skill 
in  directing  all  matters  pertaining  to  the  culinary  art,  made  it  easy 
on  her  part,  and  pleasant  and  agreeable  to  her  friends  to  be  enter- 
tained by  her. 

During  the  spring,  summer,  and  fall  of  this  year,  she  had  abund- 
ant opportunity  for  the  exercise  of  these  gifts  and  the  enjoyment 
of  this  privilege,  as  she  regarded  it,  by  entertaining  rather  an 
unusual  number  of  her  old  friends  of  former  days. 

There  was  a  continuous  succession  of  beloved  relatives,  dear 
friends,  and  valued  acquaintances  throughout  the  entire  season. 
Among  others,  the  Rev.  E.  W.  S.,  who  had  but  recently  returned 
from  his  mission  in  China,  in  whom  and  his  work  Mrs.  Platt  felt 


134  TI*E  CHRISTIAN'S  HOME. 

a  special  interest,  and  also  because  he  was  godfather  to  one  of 
her  daughters. 

These  numerous  visits  made  this  an  unusually  busy  summer  with 
Mrs.  Platt,  and  left  her  but  little  time  for  letter  writing. 


FROM  A  LETTER  TO  HER  DAUGHTER  E.,  while  on  a  visit  at 
Lancaster,  Ohio,  September  27,  1864. 

.  .  You  will  go  out  to  Mt.  Pleasant,  and  stand  where 
your  mother  did  when  a  young  girl,  and  thought  the  view  so  beau- 
tiful. All  my  young  companions  of  that  walk  are  gone  from  earth, 
I  suppose 

Would  you  like  to  write  to  H.,  and  tell  him  of  the  confirmation, 
and  your  wishes  for  yourself  and  your  brother?  I  merely  suggest 
this,  darling;  do  not  think  you  ought  to  do  it  unless  you  feel  like 
it.  I  hope  and  pray,  and  do  believe  your  decision  will  be  blessed 
to  H.  and  F.,  though  we  may  not  immediately  see  the  good.  Let 
us  pray  for  them.  No  prayer  is  in  vain — it  is  always  answered, 
though  not  always  in  our  own  way,  in  our  time. 

How  did  you  spend  your  Sunday?  We  had  two  such  good  ser- 
mons; in  the  morning  from  "There  remaineth,  therefore,  a  rest 
to  the  people  of  God."  He  said,  "  No  face  should  wear  so  bright 
a  smile;  no  step  should  be  so  elastic  as  the  Christian's,  who  walks 
with  such  a  hope  before  him."  What  if  he  does  have  "fears  within 
and  foes  without?"  What  nerves  the  soldier  in  battle,  the  mariner 
in  tempest,  but  the  hope  of  rest  and  peace  at  last?  The  weakest, 
feeblest  child  of  God  has  Home  and  Rest  secured  to  him;  his 
Saviour's  gift,  bought  for  him  by  His  precious  blood. 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF  HER  HUSBAND'S  MOTHER,  MRS.  HARRIET 

LAMB. 

DELAWARE,  O.,  Sept.  26,  1865. 
DEAREST  SISTER: — 

You  have  been  wanting  to  hear  from  me,  I  know,  since  the  few 
lines  before  the  funeral,  but  it  has  seemed  as  if  I  had  no  heart  to 
write.  This  providence  has  seemed  to  come  so  very  near  us ;  Jesus 
passed  by.  It  has  seemed  as  if  we  might  touch  the  hem  of  His 
garment,  and  He  healed  and  strengthened  and  blessed  as  never 


A   FELT   LOSS.  135 

before;  as  if  we  must  listen,  must  consider,  must  hear,  " Arise,  for 
this  is  not  your  rest." 

Not  an  afflictive  bereavement;  oh,  no;  there  is  too  much  to 
bless  His  holy  name  for;  but  a  very  sorrowful  one;  a  sad,  sad  loss 
that  it  would  not  be  right  to  be  insensible  over.  The  whole  of  her 
sickness  and  death,  the  whole  of  her  chequered  pilgrim-way  as  it 
is  now  laid  open  before  us,  seemed  to  take  us  with  her  to  the  very 
confines  of  the  "  Border  Land,"  so  that  we  must  cry,  "My  Father, 
the  chariots  of  Israel  and  the  horsemen  thereof!"  Oh,  as  with  the 
Prophet  of  old,  we  were  permitted  to  "see"  so  much,  so  may  a 
"double  portion"  of  her  spirit  be  upon  us  evermore.  May  we 
henceforth  look  up  continually  to  "  The  Hills  whence  cometh  our 
strength;"  and  in  the  full  belief,  "I  am  a  stranger  with  Thee,  and 
a  sojourner  as  all  my  fathers  were."  All  my  well-springs  are  in 
Thee.  Wean  us  from  what  is  perishable,  and  as  prop  after  prop 
which  has  blessed  and  gladdened  our  pilgrimage  falls,  oh  may  we 
more  and  more  "dwell  in  the  secret  place  of  the  Most  High,  and 
abide  under  the  shadow  of  the  Almighty." 

Here  no  continuing  city,  journeying  unto  the  place  of  which  the 
Lord  hath  said,  "I  will  give  it  you." 

I  have  felt  this  loss  as  never  a  loss  before ;  not  stunning  and 
overwhelming  as  when  one  of  our  own  dear  parents  was  taken,  but 
a  sense  of  loss.  Then,  we  were  all  together;  now  I  am  away  from 
you  all,  alone  on  the  "Ocean  of  life."  In  myself  so  weak,  so 
helpless,  so  utterly  incapable  of  the  great  charge  given  me — the 
leading  and  guiding  these  eight  immortal  beings.  Oh,  it  is  a  sad, 
sad  loss  to  lose  her  ceaseless  prayers  for  me  and  mine,  and  that 
interest  that  is  so  akin  to  a  mother's,  that  love  that  seems  so  like 
the  same,  which  only  a  grandmother  can  give.  This  summer  she 
has  been  more  than  ever  to  us  all.  I  fully  believe  she  acted  under 
the  sense  that  she  was  living  her  last  days,  and  doing  her  last  work 
for  us.  Pages  could  not  tell  you  of  all  the  beautiful  little  acts  that 
in  this  light  are  now  seen.  So  touching  and  so  tender  was  her 
interest  in  dear  H.  when  he  went  into  the  country;  such  constant 
questions  and  counsel  given' about  him.  I  was  impressed  at  the 
time,  and  said  to  his  father,  "Grandma  seems  somehow  to  look 
back  and  put  H.  in  your  place  when  you  went  out  to  meet  the 
world  at  fourteen  years  of  age.  H.  is  all  the  time  on  her  heart." 
And  again  and  again  she  made  errands  to  see  me  just  to  say  she 


136  GRANDMOTHER'S  BLESSING. 

"feared  N.  was  getting  discouraged  about  going  east  to  school;" 
would  not  I  try  to  help  her  keep  in  courage ;  better  days  would 
come,  etc.  etc.  I  am  so  glad  she  took  this  little  one  in  her  arms, 
and  she  too  has  had  a  grandmother's  blessing.  All  her  papers  and 
letters  had  been  looked  over,  arranged,  and  marked,  "read  Jan. 
1865."  Her  three  volumes  of  journals — memorandums,  she  called 
them — from  1828  to  within  four  days  of  her  death,  had  been  all 
read  over  last  Dec.  (31),  when  she  adds:  "Sat.  3ist. — Clear  and 
cold.  The  last  day  of  the  year.  When  I  look  back  upon  the  past 
year,  I  see  much  to  be  thankful  for.  My  Heavenly  Father  has 
seen  fit  to  afflict,  has  taken  from  me  my  eldest  sister  by  death,  and 
I  have  been  brought  low  by  sickness,  near  death  to  all  human 
appearances,  but  God  in  mercy  spared  me  and  crowned  me  with 
blessings,  so  mercifully  sparing  my  children,  and  so  mercifully  pro- 
viding for  them.  I  have  attended  church  thirty- eight  times,  have 
read  many  excellent  books;  many  favors  and  blessings  has  He 
bestowed.  I  desire  this  night  to  record  my  thankfulness  and 
gratitude  to  my  Heavenly  Father  for  every  blessing  to  me  and  my 
children.  Oh,  may  we  all  begin  the  new  year  with  an  humble 
dependence  on  His  love,  trusting  in  His  mercy  and  goodness  for 
time  and  eternity.  Amen. 

Have  read  my  Bible  through  by  course  (precious  Bible),  and 
have  read  3030  pages  of  other  reading. 

Saturday  evening,  loP.  M.,  1864." 

"1865,  Sunday  morning. — Clear  and  cold.  Attended  church, 
but,  oh,  the  disappointment !  was  taken  ill  and  helped  out  of 
church.  My  poor  shattered  frame  seems  tottering.  May  my 
Heavenly  Father  spare  me  for  every  event  of  His  Providence." 

The  remainder  of  the  letter  lost. 

[She  died  on  Monday,  Sept.  4th,  at  3  o'clock  P.  M.] 


GRACIOUS    PROTECTION.  137 


TO  HER  HUSBAND,  while  on  a  business  trip  in  New  York,  Philadelphia, 
and  thence  to  West  Virginia. 

DELAWARE,  November  16,  1865. 

You  do  not  know  how  I  did  reproach  myself  for  falling  asleep 
just  as  the  omnibus  came  for  you  last  night.  The  same  heart,  but 
not  quite  the  same  body  as  eighteen  years  ago ! 

H.  and  1  awoke  quite  early,  and  had  a  pleasant  little  chat  about 
"  father."  I  think  he  is  very  much  interested  and  anxious  to  do 
in  your  absence  all  he  can  for  you  in  every  way.  I  hope  we  shall 
yet  have  uncommon  help  and  comfort  in  our  boy,  notwithstanding 
all  our  oft  misgivings  and  sense  of  our  own  infirmities.  The 
knowledge  of  our  weakness  as  parents  ought  only  to  bring  a  bless- 
ing, for  "when  we  are  weak,  then  are  we  strong" — "in  the  Lord 
and  in  the  power  of  His  might." 

Saying  good-bye,  and  locking  the  door,  did  not  awaken  H. 
How  we  have  followed  you!  "The  angel  of  the  Lord  encampeth 
round  about  them  that  fear  Him,  and  delivereth  them."  Unto 
His  gracious  protection  we  daily  commend  you.  You  are  safe 
under  his  eye,  and  ever  remember  "the  eye  of  the  Lord  is  ever 
upon  them  who  fear  Him." 

"  The  veil  of  night  is  no  disguise, 
To  screen  from  Thy  all-searching  eyes; 
Through  midnight  shades  Thou  find'st  Thy  way, 
As  in  the  blazing  noon  of  day." 

So  we  followed  you  in  your  night  journeys,  feeling  you  were 
safe  in  His  holy  keeping.  May  His  peace  be  with  you,  and  save 
you  from  all  anxiety  and  fear. 

You  will  be  glad  to  know  we  have  had  prayers  this  morning.  I 
asked  H.  if  he  could  not  take  your  place,  but  "he  thought  he 
could  not  read  well  enough."  I  said,  then,  "but  do  not  you 
think  we  ought  to  have  prayers  in  father's  absence?"  "Oh,  yes," 
he  promptly  replied,  "certainly."  So  I  took  your  place. 


138  TRUE    PROSPERITY. 

TO  HER  HUSBAND. 

DELAWARE,  November  17,  1865. 

"  He  bids  His  angels  pitch  their  tents 
Round  where  His  children  dwell ; 
What  ills  their  heavenly  care  prevents 
No  earthly  tongue  can  tell." 

So  it  must  have  been  "all  for  the  best"  that  you  were  detained 
at  Dunkirk 

Business  has  been  dull ;  but  never  mind ;  he  has  the  best  pros- 
perity who  rightly  enjoys  just  that  success  God  sends  him.  "The 
silver  and  the  gold  are  mine,"  He  declares.  Can  He  not  bestow 
it  just  where  He  pleases?  "No  good  thing  does  He  withhold 
from  them  that  walk  uprightly."  So,  if  wordly  prosperity  is  with- 
held from  us,  it  must  be  that  it  would  be  an  ill  to  us,  and  some 
way  a  hindrance  to  us  or  our  children,  in  the  struggle  on  toward 
the  Heavenly  Home. 

November  29,  1865. 

BELOVED  HUSBAND:  — 

Your  long,  most  welcome  letter  from  Baltimore  came  to-day. 
How  my  heart  goes  with  you!  "God  bless  and  keep  my  precious 
husband!"  is  ever  the  prayer.  How  He  has  kept  you  thus  far! 
I  know  well  how  much  this  separation  from  home  has  cost  you.  I 
could  cry  over  your  letter  of  to-day,  so  keenly  can  I  feel  for  you. 
But  with  you,  I  do  truly  feel  you  must  be  "only  in  the  line  of 
duty,"  and  your  present  steps  "ordered  by  the  Lord." 

But  I  cannot  bear  to  hear  of  the  "ten  days  more  of  absence." 
I,  too,  should  praise  the  merciful  loving-kindness  that  has  softened 
your  absence  by  causing  the  voice  of  joy  and  health  to  continue  in 
our  household.  "To  His  watchful  providence  we  owe  it."  la  it 
not  only  an  answer  to  your  prayers  that  doubtless  have  gone  up  un- 
ceasingly for  us?  Day  by  day  do  we  implore,  in  particular,  grace 
and  protection  for  the  beloved  absent  member  of  our  household. 
"Direct  him  in  all  his  ways;  defend  him  from  all  dangers  and 
adversities;  and  prosper  the  work  of  his  hands  in  the  business 
before  him,  according  to  Thy  holy  will."  This  is  our  prayer  for 
you,  beloved  husband.  I  hope  your  mind  will  be  easy  about  your 


NOT   A   YANKEE   WOMAN.  139 

business.  Ever  remember  what  a  Father  we  have  to  trust  in. 
How  safe,  if  He  is  graciously  pleased  to  take  us  and  all  things 
belonging  to  us,  under  His  fatherly  care  and  protection.  God 
will  "prosper  your  way,"  will  grant  success  or  disappointment,  as 

He  knows  best  for  us  all I  am  so  sorry  you  had  such 

a  cold,  forlorn  time  in  old  Baltimore.  I  do  not  think  it  a  sunny 
place.  It  seems,  in  recollection  of  "eighteen  years  ago,"  a  mazy, 
bewildered  sort  of  city.  I  would  not  go  back  and  be  the  bride  of 
eighteen  years  ago,  rather  than  the  wife  of  eighteen  years,  with  all 
their  cares  and  changes.  How  have  these  eighteen  years  tried, 
tested,,  proved  the  companion,  then  so  new  and  strange  by  my  side ! 
How  eighteen  times  dearer  is  he ! 

TO  REV.  S.  C.  DAMON,  Honolulu. 

DELAWARE,  March  5J  1866. 
MY  DEAR  FRIEND: — 

One,  two,  three  letters  of  July,  September,  and  November  from 
you,  and  not  one  word  of  answer  written !  But  who  can  tell  the 
unwritten,  winged  thoughts  that  have  gone  to  your  sunny  isle? 
Just  by  my  side  is  the  sole  cause  of  my  silence,  wee  Clara  Thomp- 
son, sleeping  in  her  crib.  I  never  can  do  anything  with  a  baby  in 
my  arms.  You  must  ever  remember  /  am  not  a  Yankee  woman, 
with  the  faculty  to  marshal  duties  about  her,  and  command  her 
forces  so  that  every  duty  has  its  true  place,  and  nothing  is  left  un- 
done that  ought  to  be  done.  Some  women  are  born  generals  for 
family  government,  and  how  splendidly  they  can  rule  and  reign  in 
their  sphere!  But  alas!  that  is  not  /.  While  I  have  profound 
admiration  and  respect  for  such,  I  might  as  well  wish  I  were  the 
glorious  sun,  or  the  gentle  moon,  or  some  bright  particular  star,  as 
to  covet  their  great  gift.  My  duties  out-general  me  completely. 
Some  creep  out  of  sight,  and  are  day  by  day  among  the  things 
"left  undone  that  ought  to  be  done."  Now  this  cannot  be — the 
sixteen  elbows  that  must  be  kept  in,  sixteen  knees  that  must  not  be 
let  out,  or  the  eighty,  no,  one  hundred,  toes  that  must  be  covered, 
etc.  etc.  So  it  comes  that  sisters  grieve,  and  cousin*  scold,  and 
friends  far  over  the  waters  wonder,  "Why  does  not  Jeanette 
write?"  With  the  thermometer  marking  11°,  12°,  15°  below  zero, 
it  is  easy  to  see  what  duties  must  be  done. 


140  FIFTIETH    BIRTHDAY. 

Do  you  know  I  celebrated  (or  the  children  did)  my  fiftieth  birth- 
day last  week?  Now  make  just  as  much  as  you  possibly  can  out  of 
Miss  Smith's*  romance-description  ;  I  am  delighted  with  it.  "'Tis 
distance  lends  enchantment  to  the  view;"  I  am  sure  not  a  word 
of  mine  shall  dispel  this  enchantment.  It  is  so  pleasant  to  be 
looked  at  through  her  kind,  partial  eyes.  I  wonder  she  could  see 
I  was  "short  and  rather  stout."  Never  mind,  dear  old  friend,  I 
guess  you  and  I  will  know  each  other  even  if  all  Miss  Smith's  en- 
chantment falls  away,  and  only  a  little  old  lady  "  short  and  stout," 
with  spectacles  and  silver  hair,  stands  before  you  when  we  meet 
face  to  face.  Shall  that  ever  be  here? 

The  Honolulu  Bishop  causes  ecclesiastical  breezes  in  our  beloved 
church,  but  I  am  like  the  famed  bird  that  seeks  to  bury  her  head, 
and  so,  of  course,  I  know  nothing  about  these  things.  If  I  did, 
they  should  not  get  into  my  letters  to  you.  They  who  may  next 
meet  in  the  "happy  land,"  where  there  are  no  differences,  surely 
need  not  fall  out  by  the  way,  with  the  great  ocean  between  them. 
"One  faith,  one  Lord,  one  baptism," — that  is  enough  for  common 
ground  between  us. 

TO  H.  P. 

MY  DEAR  SON: — 

As  I  read  the  verse  of  my  "  Daily  Food,"  this  morning,  you  were 
so  before  my  mind.  It  is  this,  "Whosoever  shall  confess  me  before 
men,  him  will  I  confess  before  my  Father  which  is  in  heaven." 
Now,  why  do  not  you  decide  to  be  on  the  Lord's  side,  and 
"openly  renew  the  solemn  promise  and  vow  that  was  made  for 
you"  when  a  helpless  infant  you  were  consecrated  to  God,  and  thus 
confess  your  Saviour  before  men,  so  that  at  the  last  great  day  He 
will  also  confess  you  before  His  Father  and  the  holy  angels? 
Surely  you  are  not  too  young?  You  are  not  ready?  Ah,  when 
will  you  be  more  ready?  When  you  are  yet  nearer  manhood? 
Will  you  be  any  nearer  God  then?  God  calls  you  now.  The 
church  calls  you  now.  And  here  your  feeble  mother's  voice  calls 
you  to  come,  "for  all  things  are  ready."  "Just  as  you  are, 
without  one  plea."  You  can  never  make  yourself  better.  You 

*  From  the  Sandwich  Islands,  she  visited  friends  in  Delaware,  where  Mrs. 
Platt  met  her. 


TO    H.    P. — GODLY    COUNSEL.  141 

can  never  be  more  ready.  My  dear  boy,  the  Bishop's  visit  is  a 
call  from  God.  A  call  to  you.  Oh,  ask  God  to  help  you  decide. 
He  never  turned  away  His  gracious  ear  from  the  feeblest,  faintest, 
cry  to  Him  for  help.  Say  -'Lord,  help  me  to  see  and  do  my  duty; 
help  me  to  obey  Thy  call;  wash  me  and  make  me  clean,  and  give 
to  me  Thy  Holy  Spirit." 

Long  has  that  blessed  Spirit  waited  at  the  door  of  your  heart. 
Many,  many  times  has  he  spoken  in  that  "still  small  voice/'  "My 
son,  give  me  thy  heart."  Oh,  listen  and  follow  now  as  you  will 
wish  you  had  done  when  you  come  to  die. 

If  God  spares  you  to  a  long  life,  yet  the  hour  of  death  will  soon 
come.  Then  you  may  look  back  to  this  very  period  of  your  early 
youth  as  the  most  important  moments  of  your  whole  life — when 
God  set  before  you  Life  and  Death,  and  your  choice  was  made 
forever. 

God  will  help  you.  He  spared  not  His  own  Son,  but  freely 
gave  Him  to  die  for  the  chief  of  sinners.  How  .He  loves  you,  and 
longs  to  take  you  to  His  love,  and  make  you  truly  His  own  child ! 
Only  be  willing;  that  is  all  that  you  can  do.  Pray  to  Him  in  your 
own  room:  pray  to  Him  as  you  "walk  by  the  way;"  pray  to  Him 
when  about  your  daily  work,  "Lord,  make  me  to  hear  and  follow 
Thee." 

You  do  not  need  to  seek  counsel  of  any  earthly  friend.  God 
will  hear  and  teach  you  Himself,  and  enable  you  to  now  so  choose 
Him  that  "you  may  continue  His  forever,  and  daily  increase  in 
His  Holy  Spirit  more  and  more  until  you  come  unto  His  everlast- 
ing kingdom." 

MOTHER. 

To  MY  BELOVED  SON  H. 
21  March,  1866. 

TO  REV.  DR.  DAMON. 

DELAWARE,  OHIO,  Sunday  Afternoon,  Jan.  6,  1867. 

MY  DEAR  OLD  FRIEND:  — 

God  has  placed  dear,  loving,  sympathizing  companions  along 
our  pathway,  that  we  may  help  each  other ;  and  truly  it  does,  as 
you  say,  "serve  to  rest  burdens  and  lift  clouds,"  to  sit  down 
and  hold  converse  with  them.  Distance  and  time  cannot  les- 
sen true  friendship  ;  this  is  not  more  trite  than  true.  I  also 
believe  people  do  not  jostle  together  and  become  friends  by 


142  S.  C.  D. — MODEL   FRIENDSHIP. 

accident.  I  do  love  to  look  back  and  see  His  ruling  hand  in 
the  sweet  friendships  of  my  chequered  life,  always  remembering 
with  thankfulness  my  old  friend,  "S.  C.  D."  From  their  ear- 
liest years  my  children  have  heard  me  speak  of  this  friend  of 
my  youth.  They  are  pleased  to  call  it  "  mother's  model  friend- 
ship." Well  it  is  a  boon  I  ask  for  each  of  them^  that  God  will 
give  them  just  such  a  friend.  Somehow  I  fancy  the  present  gen- 
eration cannot  find  any  such  friendships — warm,  pure,  and  true — 
all  the  more  unselfish  and  uncommon,  because  it  was  without  one 
tinge  of  "love."  My  beloved  husband  and  your  dear  wife  can 
go  back  and  enjoy  with  us  this  old  friendship  of  our  youth.  I  say 
such  friendships  are  rare.  I  wish  S.  (Mr.  Damon's 'eldest  son)  had 
asked  me  "what  kind  of  relations  we  are  to  each  other?"  I 
like  to  answer  that  question,  and  am  never  daunted  by  the  knowing 
smile  that  comes  to  the  listener's  face.  It  only  proves  what  I  said, 
that  young  folks  now-a  days  cannot  understand  or  appreciate  such 
friendships.  Perhaps  there  will  never  be  another  "  S.  C.  D.,"  or 
"  J.  H. ;"  I  guess  not. 

How  much  we  all  did  enjoy  S.'s  visit !  The  children  caught 
the  cousinly  feeling  at  the  first  sight  of  him.  They  feel  that  they 
shall  meet  again.  I  know  that  he  will  never  come  to  the  States 
without  looking  up  these  "  doubtful  cousins,"  as  he  may  consider 
them.  I  could  not  be  with  him  and  enjoy  his  society  as  I  could 
wish,  because  my  precious  babe  was  so  feeble,  demanding  every 
thought,  filling  every  moment  with  such  care  and  sadness,  as  I  can 
never  make  you  know  by  words.  Only  some  such  experience  can 
show  the  sorrows,  the  anxiety,  the  anguish  of  my  heart  over  that  pre- 
cious baby's  life  !  She  was  never  well,  never  grew,  never  held  up 
her  head,  or  sat  up  for  a  moment ;  but  lay  upon  my  lap  for  near  thir- 
teen months,  with  her  tiny  hands  clasped,  as  her  little  sister  said, 
"as  if  always  praying  to  God."  Beautiful  folded  flower,  not  to 
open  here,  but  to  bloom  and  expand  in  the  Paradise  of  God.  "The 
Lord  gave,"  and  I  bless  Him  for  His  gift.  Her  feeble,  suffering 
life,  only  for  a  moment,  had  a  mission.  I  trust  its  sorrows  did  draw 
her  mother's  heart  nearer,  and  yet  nearer  the  one  great  Sympa- 
thizer, a  link  most  sweet  and  blessed.  I  look  back  now  and 
wonder  how  I  lived  those  thirteen  months,  only  as  I  know  His 
grace  was  sufficient,  and  I  bless  Him  for  that  gift.  The  Lord  gave, 
the  Lord  hath  taken  ;  blessed  be  indeed  His  holy  name.  Oh,  how 


TO    S.    DAMON.  143 

unceasingly  do  I  rejoice  over  our  tender,  helpless  lamb,  now  in 
the  Good  Shepherd's  bosom.  And  her  precious,  beautiful  death, 
with  all  the  household  band  around  her,  was  made  a  blessed  call 
to  one  of  the  number.  "Seek  ye  my  face;"  to  which  his  heart, 
through  grace,  then  responded,  "Thy  face,  Lord,  will  I  seek." 


TO  SAMUEL  DAMON,  SON  OF  THE  REV.  S.  C.  DAMON. 

DELAWARE,  OHIO,  January  26,  1867. 
MY  DEAR  SAMUEL  : — 

It  seems  but  the  other  day  since  you  were  with  us,  and  that  you 
may  flit  back  any  day.  These  cousins  will  ever  remember  your 
most  pleasant  visit,  How  much  you  lost  in  not  getting  home  for 
the  "silver  wedding!"  My  first  thought  was,  "Samuel  is  not 
home  yet."  The  account  was  so  pleasantly  given,  so  vivid,  we 
could  see  it  all,  and  do  most  heartily  join  in  the  kind  greetings  and 
best  wishes  to  the  honored  pair.  What  a  store  of  shining  tokens 
was  showered  upon  them !  Not  more  numerous,  I  trust,  than  their 
bright,  happy  days  to  come. 

What  fine  times  you  and  Miss  Smith  must  have  in  comparing  notes 
of  travel  over  the  States  !  Please  give  our  love  to  her ;  I  hoped 
to  see  her  relatives  here,  and  ask  them  for  any  word  for  her,  but 
we  have  been  almost  snow-bound  for  several  weeks.  If  you  were 
here  now  we  could  give  you  a  taste  of  one  of  our  sports  I  guess 
you  cannot  enjoy  at  home, — sleighing,  sledding,  skating,  and 
snow-balling.  All  over  our  country  there  has  been  more  snow 
than  usual,  as  doubtless  you  see  by  the  papers.  Cousin  James,  at 
Williams  College,  tells  us  the  folks  thereabouts  have  been  truly 
snow-bound, — the  drifts  ten  feet  high  in  some  places.  Your  next 
visit  must  be  in  winter.  Before  the  snow  the  girls  and  boys  had 
good  skating  on  our  river.  The  mill-pond  makes  a  beautiful  skating 

spot.     All  the  cousins  mounted  skates  but  little  M ,  and  father 

and  mother  often  joined  them  as  lookers-on.  I  said  that  was  the 
only  thing  that  made  me  feel  I  thought  I  had  lost  by  being  young 
so  many  years  ago.  Girls  did  not  skate  then  ;  I  should  so  have 
enjoyed  that  sport.  This  remark  gives  the  children  a  look  of 
doubt,  but  I  tell  them  I  was  not  always  such  a  "  fat  little  woman." 

N ,   F ,  J ,   H ,   and  F are  all  in  school. 


144  NOT  A  PERFECT  MOTHER. 

Little  M is  my  constant  companion.     She  says  she  is  in  the 

First  Reader,  and  is  making  a  quilt.  Cousin  F ,  "the  black- 
eyed  charmer,"  is  quite  well.  She  passed  the  holidays  in  Cincin- 
nati with  a  young  friend,  on  one  of  those  beautiful  hills  you  re- 
member about  that  city.  She  is  truly  as  lovely  in  mind  and  heart 
as  she  looks,  and  that  is  saying  a  good  deal,  is  it  not  ? 
The  dinner-bell  summons  me. 


TO  HER  BROTHER  JOHN  HULME. 

Sunday  next  before  Easter,  April  14,  1867. 

MY  DEAR  BROTHER:  — 

We  had  "Floating  Island"  for  dinner,  and  I  always  call  that 
"Uncle  John's  dish."  We  said  we  wished  you  could  come  in  and 
take  dinner  every  Sunday  with  us,  and  I  laughingly  added,  "I 
suppose  that  is  just  about  as  often  and  as  much  as  he  can  stand  the 
children" — for  you  must  always  bear  in  mind  my  children  are  by 
no  manner  of  means  book  children,  though  the  youngest  wee  one 
can,  and  at  this  very  moment  is  saying  over  the  catechism  as  nicely, 
almost  as  if  she  were  fifteen  years  old,  instead,  of  only  five,  a  month 
ago. 

I  do  think  you  would  love  them  all,  yet  often  be  sorely  vexed 
and  annoyed  with  them  too.  Perfect  children  have  perfect  moth- 
ers. That  is  what  your  sister  is  not.  Only  think,  you  have  never 
seen  this  little  M.  !  I  wish  you  were  sitting  with  me  now,  and  the 
door  open  for  you  to  hear  her  and  her  father  with  the  catechism. 
She  is  always  full  of  delight  when  her  "turn"  comes,  and  really 
learns  readily.  She  is  such  a  wee  slight  child,  I  often  look  at  her 
and  try  to  feel  the  loan  may  not  be  for  many  years. 

F. ,  the  boy  you  wished  "thrown  out  of  the  window,"  is  a  grand 
little  fellow,  as  frank  and  generous  by  nature  as  his  name  implies. 
His  mother's  special  admiration,  as  you  can  see. 

Then  comes  H.,  which  should  be  J.,  for  here  is  the  mother  all 
over  again.  An  easy,  careless,  good  natured,  unambitious  child, 
just  as  content  at  the  bottom  as  at  the  head  of  her  class.  How 
often  she  reminds  me  of  my  school  days  at  James  Taylor's  school 
in  the  "old  Academy,"  with  "M.,  Lottie,"  and  all  the  other  girls 
above  me,  and  dear  Martha,  the  youngest,  at  their  head,  and  I  as 


RICHES    NOT   THE   BEST   BOON.  145 

happy  and  unconcerned  as  a  butterfly.  I  do  not  worry  about  the 
ignorant  little  thing,  knowing  life  may  have  many  sober  days  for 
her  yet,  and  some  girls  do  get  along  without  knowing  anything 
scarcely. 

But  above  her  is  Miss  J.,  by  name — but  no  real  "Jeanette"  in  her. 
I  guess,  the  prettiest  and  brightest — and  may  be  you  would  say  the 
worst  of  the  family,  with  a  strong,  mighty  will  for  good  or  evil, 
and  about  as  comfortable  for  me  to  undertake  to  rear  and  train  as 
it  would  be  easy  for  a  mouse  to  "raise"  an  elephant.  Yet  she  is 
a  wonderful  child  to  depend  upon  and  take  comfort  in,  I  assure 
you — when  she  pleases  to  be  "a  good  girl." 

F.  is  "Uncle  John,"  and  has  developed  his  musical  talents. 
Just  out  of  babyhood  he  could  keep  "time"  on  a  drum  most  won- 
derfully, if  it  deafen  his  hearers.  An  old  violin  fell  into  his  hands, 
and  now  he  is  taking  a  few  lessons, — "the  best  player  in  town!"  and 
music  is  the  talent  of  this  town.  I  should  observe  that  this  new 
stranger  teacher  is  very  anxious  to  get  a  class,  and  can  promise 
much  more,  I  guess,  than  he  can  perform. 

You  have  drawn  "The  Admiral."  Dear  boy,  I  ask  no  "promo- 
tion" for  him  but  the  honor  that  cometh  from  above.  That  God 
may  bless  and  keep  him,  and  "deliver  him  from  evil,"  and  fit  him 
for  His  work,  whatever  that  may  be. 

We  were  so  much  pleased  and  obliged  for  your  kind  interest 
and  nice  talk  with  the  Bishop  about  Annapolis,  etc.  How  I  do 
wish  you  could  run  down  to  that  old  city  and  see  H.  Mr.  P. 's 
description  of  the  old  houses,  quiet  streets,  old  church  and  church 
ways,  made  me  think  it  must  be  like  Burlington  some.  In  this 
very  letter  I  would  put  a  note  big  enough  to  take  you  there, 

if .  Ah,  what  an  "if"  that  is!  It  keeps  us  out  of  a  new 

house — a  piano  for  the  girls,  which  they  want  "so  much" — "a  pony 
carriage  for  father" — and  a  host  of  other  things  useless  to  mention. 
Yet  with  this  great  "if"  always  about  us,  tell  me  where  there  is  a 
happier  family? — more  richly  blessed  than  we? 

Riches  is  not  the  best  boon  man  can  have;  some  men  can  afford 
to  be  made  rich — nit  does  not  ruin  or  hinder  their  pilgrim  march. 
But  we  must  know  by  this  time  that  riches  would  not  do  for  us. 
I  mean  you  and  me,  dear  brother,  our  family.  He  has  withheld 
it,  and  hedged  us  up  from  it  on  every  side,  seemingly,  so  that  it 
can  never  come  to  us.  Why  is  it?  "No  good  thing  will  he  with- 
10 


146  OBERLIN    RECTORY. 

hold,"  we  are  expressly  told.  Why  is  it?  Why  but  that  riches, 
more  or  less,  would  be  "no  good  thing,"  but  an  evil  for  us.  Ah, 
that  Father's  love  we  cannot  doubt, — never — never — never. 

There"  is  a  little  book  I  want  you  to  get  and  carefully  read — for 
my  sake — because  I  like  it  so  much — "Goulburn's  Thoughts  on 
Personal  Religion."  Do  get  it. 

What  a  long  scribbling !  I  wonder  if  you  will  have  patience,  and 
can  read  it.  What  did  I  give  you  all  these  nieces'  and  nephews' 
pictures  for?  I  am  sure  I  do  not  know.  May  be  it  was  to  let  you 
see  how  rich  a  man  you  really  are.  Who  can  tell  how  many 
comfortable  firesides,  with  easy  chairs,  gown,  and  slippers,  may 
await  "Uncle  John"?  Then  only  more  and  more  "trust  and  not 
be  afraid." 

Your  loving  sister, 

JEANETTE. 

You  see  I  do  not  name  niece  N.  with  the  other  children.  She  has 
slipped  away  from  childhood  almost  through  girlhood  into  woman- 
hood— still  a  very  busy  school  girl,  but  old  enough  and  c6mpanion- 
able  for  any  Uncle  John. 

With  her  husband  and  youngest  child  she  went  to  Cleveland  to 
attend  the  Diocesan  Convention,  stopping  at  Oberlin,  to  visit  the 

family  of  Rev.  W.  C.  F ,  from  where  this  letter  to  her  daughter 

E.  was  written  :  — 

OBERLIN  RECTORY,  June  2,  1867. 
DEAREST  DAUGHTER: — 

I  dare  say  everything  is  doing  well  at  home.  I  never  can  doubt 
your  real  heartfelt  interest,  if  you  do  seem  to  forget  for  a  moment 
sometimes.  One  reason  for  this  is,  that  God  made  your  childhood 
so  full  of  heavy  care  in  helping  a  weak  mother  in  so  many  ways, 
with  the  very  sweetest  consideration.  I  can  truly  say  this,  and  do 
fervently  pray  your  future,  even  down  to  good  old  age.  if  God 
spares  you,  may  be  full  of  the  richest  blessing  of  Him  who  has 
said,  "  It  is  good  for  a  man  to  bear  the  yoke  in  his  youth." 

What  a  delightful  home  this  is  !    Father  and  I  are  enjoying  every 

moment  of  our  visit At  Wellington  we  stopped  a  few 

moments  to  see  the  B.'s.     P.  was  dressing,  but  came  out  at  once 


VIEWS    OF    DANCING.  147 

to  greet  us,  with  the  hearty  exclamation,  "You  darling  woman, 
how  glad  I  am  to  see  you  !"  .  .  . 

The  eight-mile  stage  ride  was  shortened  by  a  talk  with  an  old 
man  who  used  to  attend  Mr.  French's  church,  now  living  in  Mis- 
souri. He  spoke  very  highly  of  Mr.  French.  Mrs.  F.  and  Fanny 
met  us  with  the  warmest  welcome.  The  little  girls  came  running 
after  them  down  the  walk,  the  picture  of  health. 

What  a  sweet  spot  this  church  and  rectory  is ;  all  my  anticipa- 
tions are  more  than  realized  in  everything. 

S.  is  at  home,  and  goes  to  Convention  to  help  his  father.  He  is 
a  fine-looking,  manly  boy.  I  like  W.  very  much, — such  a  good, 
true,  intelligent  boy,  seventeen  last  March.  F.  is  not  fifteen  yet. 
I  like  her  much,  too ;  indeed  I  like  them  all. 

HER  VIEWS  OF  DANCING,  AS  EXPRESSED  IN  A  LETTER  TO 
HER  DAUGHTER  E. 

DELAWARE,  OHIO,  August  14,  1867. 
MY  DEAR  DAUGHTER: — 

I  have  thought  much,  and  I  hope  prayerfully,  about  your  danc- 
ing, since  our  last  conversation,  when  you  said  you  had  thought 
the  whole  matter  over,  and  could  go  from  your  closet  asking  God's 
presence  in  a  dancing  party,  and  that  you  did  not  think  it  wrong 
for  you  to  dance.  You  added,  "I  want  to  do  what  is  right,  and 
wish  to  know  my  duty."  Now,  if  this  is  honest,  and  you  really 
desire  to  know  your  duty,  as  I  believe  you  do,  then  you  will  be 
surely  guided.  No  one  ever  yet  asked  wisdom  of  Him  who  giveth, 
upbraiding  not,  and  his  petition  was  not  heard.  No  one  ever  asked, 
"  Lord,  teach  me,"  but  he  was  surely  directed,  and  shown  the  right 
way. 

After  you  had  told  me  you  had  come  to  the  above  conclusion, 
"  having  thought  the  whole  matter  over,"  on  the  afternoon  of  the 
day,  when  by  faith  you  had  looked  again  upon  the  death  and  pas- 
sion of  our  Saviour,  Christ,  who  did  humble  Himself,  even  to  the 
death  upon  the  cross,  for  us  miserable  sinners,  who  lay  in  darkness 
and  the  shadow  of  death,  that  He  might  make  us  children  of  God, 
and  exalt  us  to  everlasting  life, — your  words  seemed  impossible, 
and  most  deeply  pained  me,  coming  from  my  own  child,  one  whom 
I  had  prayed  for  and  sought  to  influence  aright  from  her  earliest 


148  OPPOSED   TO   DANCING. 

years.  How  imperfect,  vain,  useless  all  my  mother-life  for  her  ! 
In  bitterness  of  heart  I  could  say,  "As  well,  perhaps,  for  her,  if 
she  had  been  these  nineteen  years  without  this  mother." 

But  I  have  been  comforted.  At  the  "great  day"  of  reckoning, 
when  our  own  stewardship  is  given  up,  it  may  be  remembered,  not 
what  I  have  done,  but  what  I  sought  to  do  for  my  children. 

In  looking  back  to  that  Sunday  afternoon  of  "thought  over  the 
whole  matter,"  I  must  speak  plainly,  my  dear  daughter,  and  say, 
the  subject  was  not  properly  "thought  over,"  with  your  Bible  on 
your  knees,  the  only  true  way  to  go  to  God  for  His  blessing  and 
guidance.  Your  heart  can  answer,  you  had  no  opportunity  nor  was 
time  sought  to  thus  think  over  your  duty;  that  afternoon  was  spent 

with ,  who  has  been  taught  opposite  views  from  your  mother  and 

pastor,  hearing  her  views,  and  being  strengthened  in  what  you 
hoped  was  right ;  was  this  seeking  to  learn  your  duty  from  God  ? 

I  did  think  I  would  leave  you  henceforth  to  the  Great  Teacher, 
and  never  allude  to  this  subject  again  ;  but  father  and  I,  after  pray- 
erful consideration,  decided  that  our  duty  requires  us  to  request 
you  not  to  dance.  We  ask  that  this  amusement  may  be  laid  aside, 
cheerfully,  we  hope,  for  our  sakes,  in  respect  to  -our  principles, 
which  we  cannot  give  up;  only  for  so  long  as  we  shall  live,  or  you 
shall  live  with  us.  It  cannot  be  very  long  before  we  shall  be  done 
with  our  counsel,  and  you  are  free  to  follow  your  own  wishes. 

We  may  be  wrong.  Another  generation  wiser  and  better  may 
see  that  these  convictions  of  ours  are  but  old-fashioned  notions, 
and  not  the  will  of  the  Lord. 

It  would  be  much  easier  now  to. think  this  and  yield  to  my  chil- 
dren's wishes — but  I  cannot.  From  my  childhood  I  have  been 
taught  to  believe  that  dancing  was  an  amusement  that  belonged  to 
the  world's  people,  and  was  renounced  in  Baptism  for  our  children 
as  of  the  "vain  pomp  and  glory  of  the  world."  Such  a  little  cross 
to  take  up  for  Jesus'  sake !  For  Him  who  gave  His  life  a  ransom. 

"  As  by  the  light  of  opening  day, 
The  stars  are  all  concealed  ; 
So  earthly  pleasures  fade  away, 
When  Jesus  is  revealed." 

Defend,  O  Lord,  Thy  servant  with  Thy  heavenly  grace,  that  she 
may  continue  Thine  forever,  and  daily  increase  in  Thy  Holy  Spirit 
more  and  more  until  she  come  into  Thy  everlasting  Kingdom. 


LIFTS   AND    HELPS.  149 

TO  HER  HUSBAND  IN  NEW  YORK. 

October  8,  1867. 

We  are  getting  on  surprisingly.  I  am  almost  rested.  Many 
little  "lifts"  and  "helps"  have  come  to  me  in  a  nice  visit  on  Sat- 
urday evening  from  Mrs.  K. ,  and  the  call  on  Hattie  G.,  a  chat  in 
the  street  with  M.  L.  and  Mrs.  T.,  and  a  call  yesterday  upon  Mrs. 
R.  She  was  at  my  side  at  the  •' Lord's  Table"  on  Sunday,  and  I 
felt  drawn  to  tell  her  how  glad  I  was  she  was  able  to  get  out.  She 
spoke  so  feelingly  of  the  little  book — "Loving  Clmst" — I  had 
given  her,  and  said  I  could  not  know  how  much  good  that  book 
had  done.  She  had  loaned  it  first  to  Mrs.  C.,  then  to  that  poor 
lingering  sick  youth  D.,  who  read  it,  sent  it  back,  and  then  went 
again  for  it,  saying  he  wanted  to  commit  some  of  it  to  memory. 
I  told  her  he  shall  have  it,  and  I  would  get  her  another.  So  will 
you  please  go  to  the  A.  T.  S.  and  get  some  and  send  at  once,  as 
Mrs.  R.  goes  on  her  journey  soon.  And,  then,  can't  you  get  me 
a  copy  of  "Words  of  Jesus"  for  her?  Buy  it  as  a  thank-offering 
for  a  safe  journey,  and  send  it  with  the  others. 

[A  few  days  previous  to  the  date  of  this  letter  her  husband  had  gone  to  New 
York,  taking  with  him  their  daughter  E.,  who  remained  from  home  one  year.] 

TO  REV.  S.  C.  DAMON. 

DELAWARE,  O.,  Sunday  Afternoon,  Nov.  3,  1867.    • 
MY  DEAR  OLD  FRIEND:  — 

I  have  not  "  waited  a  year  before  answering  your  scrap,"  as  you 
asked  that  I  would  not,  but  much  longer  than  I  wished,  I  assure 
you;  for  I  laid  down  yours  of  June  z6th  with  the  intention  of 
writing  immediately.  All  these  months  have  passed,  and  now  I 
am  daring  to  take  holy  time  in  talking  with  you.  Won't  you 
listen?  Suppose  you  have  gone  into  your  study  for  an  hour  of 
rest  between  the  day's  labors,  and  I  have  come  in  unbidden  and 
seated  myself  at  your  table  by  you,  determined  for  a  talk,  would 
you  turn  me  out?  For  years  I  thought  it  very  wrong  to  write  a 
letter  on  Sunday.  Do  I  now  love  and  honor  the  day  less?  I  hope 
not.  I  often  write  letters  now  to  my  dear  absent  children  or  hus- 
band when  from  home,  and  feel  this  is  not  wrong  in  His  sight  who 


150  HILLTOP — THE   OTHER   SIDE. 

made  the  day  for  man.  "Sunday  letters,"  I  tell  the  children,  and 
always  try  to  make  them  such;  just  as  we  should  hold  Sunday  talk 
if  together. 

Now,  if  with  you  to-day,  I  think  the  very  first  thing  I  should  tell 
you  would  be  why  I  had  not  written  before.  I  have  been  in  the 
kitchen  all  summer  more  than  at  my  writing-table.  A  good  ser- 
vant who  had  been  for  years  with  us  in  that  department,  went  to 
be  with  an  invalid  mother,  and  we  could  fill  her  place  only  with  a 
"Topsy"  of  eleven  years.  I  have  written  scarcely  to  my  sisters. 
Our  Mary  comes  back  next  week,  so  you  may  answer  this  imme- 
diately, and  hope  for  a  reply. 

I  have  never  lost  sight  of  you,  if  I  have  said  nothing;  and  there 
is  always  special  remembrance  on  the  holy  day  that  the  Lord  will 
refresh  you  and  yours  with  His  grace,  and  abundantly  own  and 
bless  your  labor  of  love — "making  request  with  joy."  Partakers 
of  the  common  salvation  is  a  living  bond  time  and  distance  touch 
not.  I  do  not  know  how  it  is  with  you,  but  I  feel  that  /  have 
reached  the  hilltop,  and  am  going  down  the  other  side.  May  be 
you  are  only  on  the  top,  you  speak  of  such  unbroken  health  and 
vigor.  So  I  want  to  tell  you  this  side  of  the  hill  is  just  as  pleasant 
as  the  other.  Morning  has  its  freshness  and  beauty,  but  evening 
has  the  glory  of  the  day;  and  this  side  of  the  hill  has  all  that  sunset 
glory.  Gleams  from  the  Golden  Shore,  I  think  it  must  be.  I  have 
always  admired  old  age  and  everything  that  was  its  type.  When 
we  reach  fifty  years  I  think  we  can  begin  to  spell  out  for  ourselves 
the  meaning  of  that  period  of  life,  and  can  guess  its  joys  and  sor- 
rows, its  helps  and  comforts.  Slow  learners  we  are  of  all  the  les- 
sons of  life,  even  under  such  a  Teacher.  Yet  if  He  be  our  Master 
we  do  learn,  "increase  in  the  knowledge  of  Him."  Ah,  it  is  this 
which  shortens  the  way,  that  makes  the  heart  warmer  and  brighter 
as  years  increase.  In  youth  we  may  believe  in  Him,  trust  Him ; 
but  we  do  not  know  Him  as  in  later  years.  When  the  burdens,  cares, 
and  sorrows,  the  sins  we  find  in  ourselves,  and  the  imperfection  in 
all  about  us,  have  made  us  lean  on  Him,  and  turn  to  Him  for  sym- 
pathy and  help — then  we  begin  to  taste  the  riches  of  His  grace,  as 
the  young  pilgrim  never  can. 

You  see  in  church  papers  all  the  church  news,  and  much  to  make 
the  heart  sad.  "Ritualism" — how  sad  !  But  I  am  not  turned  from 


PRAYER  BOOK  APPRECIATED.  151 

my  faith  in  my  church;  though  I  would  rather,  much  rather,  turn 
back  to  Quakerism  than  go  to  Ritualism. 

Give  my  love  to  Samuel ;  tell  him  he  owes  me  a  letter.  He  said 
when  he  became  rich  he  should  return  and  live  in  the  United 
States;  so  I  may  expect  to  see  him  again.  Indeed,  I  feel  as  if  I 
should  see  you  all  at  my  fireside;  if  not,  a  little  while  and  we  meet 
on  "the  other  side." 

TO  HER  DAUGHTER  E.,  WHILE  ON  A  VISIT  TO  NEW  YORK. 

DELAWARE,  Christmas  week,  1867. 
DEAREST  DAUGHTER  : — 

Every  letter,  with  its  account  of  your  visit,  has  been  enjoyed 
more  than  I  can  tell.  I  don't  really  believe  you  have  had  more 
pleasure  than  I;  even  your  "details"  paid  three  times  for  sparing 
you 

And  now  about  our  Christmas.  F.  and  S.  came  Tuesday  P.  M., 
and  we  all  went  to  church  in  the  evening,  even  F.  and  M.  The 
church  was  prettily  dressed ;  the  service,  of  course,  was  perfect, 

and  Mr.  Ufford's  sermon  was  most  excellent.     Mr.  P came  a 

few  days  before,  and  sat  with  us  the  preceding  Sunday.  On  Christ- 
mas day  he  was  present,  and  joined  us  in  the  communion.  He 
says,  that  little  Prayer  Book  I  gave  him  after  his  wife's  death  was 
just  what  he  wanted.  He  had  never  seen  one  before,  almost  all 
his  ancestors  being  Congregational  preachers.  He  had  studied  it 
with  the  Bible,  bought  another  for  his  little  son  of  eight  years,  and 
in  the  last  three  months,  lying  on  his  sick  bed,  had  taught  him  the 
Creed,  Confession,  and  Collects.  In  all  my  life  I  never  heard  such 
intelligent  appreciation  of  our  Prayer  Book  as  from  this  man  who 
had  never  seen  one  before,  or  been  in  an  Episcopal  church  six 
months  ago.  It  had  been  years  since  he  had  regularly  attended 
the  house  of  God,  nursing  his  invalid  wife,  and  not  fully  satisfied 
with  the  Congregational  Church,  of  which  he  was  a  member ;  but, 
through  his  wife's  death,  and  that  little  Prayer  Book,  the  Blessed 
Spirit  has  been  pleased  to  awaken  him  to  newness  of  life  and  fresh 
purposes  to  follow  Christ.  Away  from  any  ministers  or  church,  he 
learned  what  was  expected  of  an  Episcopalian,  and  began  to  read 
to  his  relatives  (good  Baptist  and  Presbyterian  people)  the  daily 
lessons  and  family  prayer,  as  ordered  in  the  Prayer  Book.  I  was 


152  A    MERRY    CHRISTMAS. 

so  glad  I  had  never  written  to  him  one  word  about  our  Church  or 
Prayer  Book,  but  our  letters  had  been  touching  personal  religion 
only,  for  it  is  manifest  no  human  influence  has  directly  moved  him; 
neither  can  I  tell  how  I  came  to  think  of  sending  that  little  Prayer 
Book  as  a  reminder  of  one  who  was  so  much  with  his  departed  wife, 
only  that  it  was  the  ordering  of  the  Lord.  I  felt  great  pity  for  him, 
but  knew  nothing  of  what  I  have  told  you  when  I  said,  "Bring 

Mr. ,  and  come  to  church,  and  then  come  home  with  us  and 

pass  the  rest  of  Christmas  day."  He  said,  "  I  will ;"  so  he  joined 
us  at  dinner,  and  Mr.  G.  G.,  of  N.  Y.,  who  is  so  kind  to  his  old 
mother.  He  is  not  quite  well,  and  is  on  a  visit  here.  Mrs.  S. 
came  and  cooked  our  dinner,  so  I  could  go  to  church  comfortably. 
Our  party  only  numbered  seventeen  to  dinner.  Mr.  C.  and  Kitty, 
and  all  the  G.'s,  Judge  M.  and  sister  joined  us  at  supper,  making 
twenty-one.  But  F.  and  A.  helped,  and  with  a  good  cook  I  have 
had  less  care  and  a  more  "merry"  Christmas  day  with  the  little 
ones.  They  carried  the  old  folks  with  them,  and  you  never  saw 
games  "go  off"  as  ours  did,  with  Dr.  G.,  Mr.  P.,  and  your  father 
and  mother  in  the  midst  of  the  fun.  J.  and  I  slipped  out  and  fixed 
the  supper  table.  You  know  I  always  call  it  the  "  remnant  supper," 
but  this  time  it  was  made  fresh  by  a  splendid  basket  of  grapes  in 
the  centre,  brought  by  Kitty  C.  as  her  Christmas  present.  Mrs. 
I.  sent  over  a  beautiful  iced  citron-cake,  which  we  highly  orna- 
mented with  red  drops  and  bits  of  uncle  W.'s  candy  gift.  The 
cake  basket  was  full  of  jelly-cake,  doughnuts,  citron-cake,  and  fruit- 
cake, Mrs.  I.  sent  over ;  a  dish  of  candy,  one  of  nuts  and  figs ; 
custard  from  dinner,  cranberry  jelly,  etc.  etc.  ;  turkey  remnants, 

etc.     The  table  was  beautiful Harry  M.,  too,  was 

here.  And  then  there  was  in  one  corner  a  table  full  of  right  little 
ones,  who  did  so  enjoy  the  evening.  It  was  a  very  happy  Christ- 
mas. Somehow  you  and  dear  H.  did  not  seem  quite  away,  but 
present  all  day;  constantly  before  us  in  our  prayers  through  all 
the  services,  and  with  us  in  the  home  circle  too.  I  seemed  to  be 
able  to  give  you  both  up  to  His  holy  keeping,  greatly  helped 
through  sister  E.'s  sweet  picture,  which  I  first  saw  at  midnight  the 
night  before. 

There  had  not  been  a  moment  all  day,  but  as  soon  as  the  com- 
pany had  all  gone  I  brought  the  "  little  book,"  and,  though  it  was 
near  n  o'clock,  even  M.  stopped  to  hear  cousin  F.  read  it  in  her 


HONOR   THE   LORD.  153 

rich,  sweet  voice.  It  proved  too  much  for  M.,  who  sobbed  aloud 
in  my  lap.  Thank  Ellen,  and  tell  her  I  think  the  children  will 
not  forget  it. 

The  picture  is  full  of  high  and  holy  sentiment.  It  is  framed  and 
hangs  in  our  new  dining-room 

i  r  P.  M.     Mr.  P y  has  been  here  again  this  evening.     I  wish 

you  could  hear  him  talk  about  our  church.  Just  what  the  Prayer 
Book  has  taught  him.  He  seems  so  full  of  comfort  and  satisfaction 
in  all  he  sees  in  her  spirit  and  offices.  "This  I  like  about  your 
church,"  said  he ;  "  it  cannot  matter  a  rushlight  who  or  what  kind 
of  a  preacher  reads  your  service,  you  can  worship  God  just  the 
same." 

Give  my  love  to  H.,  and  a  mother's  best  Christmas 
wishes.  I  hope,  indeed  I  feel,  that  you  did  both  meet  us  on  that 
day  at  the  Lord's  table.  I  give  you  both  to  Him  and  His  care, 
rejoicing  in  the  assurance  that  "though  an  host  should  encamp 
against  you,"  with  God  on  your  side,  I  fear  no  evil. 

TO  E.  WHILE  VISITING  RELATIVES  ON  LONG  ISLAND. 

DELAWARE,  O.,  May  4,  1868. 

C     .  Just  one  little  verse  seems  to  run  through  my  mind 

in  answer  to  a  portion  of  your  letter:  "I  would  rather  be  a  door- 
keeper in  the  House  of  my  God  than  to  dwell  in  the  tents  of  wick- 
edness."  It  is,  no  doubt,  very  unpleasant  to  go  to  a  church  a 
stranger  "without  a  seat;"  but  it  is  infinitely  better  than  to  stay 
away.  Indeed,  darling,  God  must  have  some  special  object  in 
these  little  circumstances  that  He  has  permitted  now  to  surround 
your  path ;  some  purpose  of  love.  Now  He  is  proving  you  and 
testing  just  how  much  His  feeble  Lamb  cares  for  her  Shepherd's 
voice,  and  the  ordinances  of  His  house. 

"He  that  honoreth  me  I  will  honor,"  declares  our  lesson  for  this 
morning.  If  you  are  only  enabled  to  leave  but  this  testimony: 
that  God's  house  and  law  are  dearer  to  you  than  any  earthly  good; 
that  you  would  rather  "be  a  doorkeeper" — take  the  meanest,  low- 
est seat  in  His  courts  than  ever  to  be  shut  out  and  numbered  with 
those  "without."  Then  my  dearest  daughter  has  "Honored" 
Him,  and  He  will  honor  that  testimony  by  making  it  a  blessing  to 
those  about  her — eternal  good  flowing  from  this  visit  of  her  twen- 
tieth year. 


154  GRATITUDE    FOR   MERCIES. 

BIRTHDAY  LETTER  TO  HER  DAUGHTER  E.  IN  NEW  YORK. 


DELAWARE,  O.  (Aug,  9. 
9th  Sunday  after  Trinity,  Aug.  9,  1868. 
MY  OWN  DEAR  CHILD: — 

I  cannot  make  out  twenty  years  since  dear  grandma  first  laid  my 
tiny  daughter  in  my  arms.  Twenty  years !  Twenty  years  of  mer- 
cies so  unnumbered,  so  unacknowledged  !  With  thanksgiving  would 
I  remember  the  Divine  loving  One  that  has  so  far  "brought  up" 
my  frail  tender  babe  to  woman's  estate;  for  the  pain,  sorrow,  and 
death  she  has  escaped,  for  all  the  evil  that  has  been  kept  from  her; 
for,  above  all,  beyond  all,  that  I  trust  He  has  revealed  Himself  to 
her,  "called  her  by  His  grace,"  and  begun  in  her  His  own  most 
blessed  work  which  should  be  in  her  as  the  "shining  light  which 
shineth  more  and  more  unto  the  perfect  day  ;"  for  the  blessing  she 
has  been  to  her  mother;  for  the  love  and  care,  the  example  of 
patience  to  her  brothers  and  sisters;  for  the  days  of  weary  care 
which  her  unselfish  devotion  and  tender  consideration  cheered; 
for  the  "times  of  sickness"  brightened  by  her  presence;  the  bur- 
dened nights  shared  beyond  her  strength;  for  all,  all  she  has  been 
to  us,  I  thank  the  Giver. 

You  have  been  very  much  in  our  hearts,  dearest  daughter,  on 
this  your  first  birthday  away  from  mother.  When  the  result  and 
meaning  of  all  the  appointments  of  this  life  shall  appear,  as  it  will 
one  day,  then  may  this  present  separation  show  a  blessing  gained ; 
a  blessing  from  Him  who  declareth  "When  thy  father  and  mother 
forsake  thee,  then  the  Lord  will  take  thee  up." 

May  every  lonely  feeling  have  been  made  the  Good  Shepherd's 
call  "come  to  me;"  may  you  have  learned  more  of  that  "Friend 
who  sticketh  closer  than  a  brother,"  than  you  ever  knew  before; 
telling  Jesus  everything.  The  more  frequently  we  go  to  Him,  the 
more  intimately  we  shall  know  Him;  and  the  more  intimately  we 
know  Him,  the  more  we  shall  love,  serve,  and  become  like  Him. 
Oh,  whatever  leads  you  to  go  more  to  Him,  to  become  more  inti- 
mately confiding  with  Him,  is  the  blessing  of  your  life. 

We  sent  a  little  book  as  a  birthday  token,  which  I  hope  you  have 
received.  Father  said  after  dinner,  I  must  write  to  N.  Of  course 
my  full  heart  was  ready  for  a  word  with  you,  as  this  sheet  now 

shows. 

Your  loving,  grateful 

MOTHER. 


COUNTRY   COUSINS.,  155 

TO  HER  DAUGHTER  E. 

DELAWARE,  O.,  August  23,  1868. 
nth  Sunday  after  Trinity. 

How  near  you  are  brought  by  the  collect  for  the  day  as  your 
"weekly  remembrance"  comes  round.  Not  that  each  child  is  not 
daily  remembered;  how  earnestly  the  petition  went  up  this  morn- 
ing to  "Him  who  declarest  his  Almighty  power  chiefly  in  showing 
mercy  and  pity,"  that  He  would  grant  unto  our  absent  child  such 
a  measure  of  His  grace,  that  she,  running  the  way  of  His  com- 
mandments, may  obtain  His  gracious  promises  and  be  made  par- 
taker of  His  heavenly  treasures  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord. 
Absent  or  present,  this  is  the  fulness  of  all  we  ask  for  each  child. 

When  I  opened  my  portfolio,  I  found  this  little  scrap  "At 
Evening,"  so  pretty  and  in  harmony  with  your  selection  from 
"Each  day  a  little  life,  fresh  from  the  Master's  hand." 

FROM  A  LETTER  TO  E.  AND  J.  WHO  WERE  VISITING 
FRIENDS  IN  COLUMBUS. 

DELAWARE,  December  28,  1868. 

.  .  .  .  It  is  very  pleasant  to  think  of  you  both  as  having 
such  a  grand  time ;  a  full  payment  for  sparing  you.  Tell  J.  I  can 
well  imagine  the  enjoyment  of  the  opera  music,  and  your  mother's 
old  song  ;' Robin  Adair."  That  simple  air  brings  back  many 
years  of  my  girlhood.  Your  Aunt  Martha  and  I  sang  it  up  and 
down  the  house  with  hearts  as  young  and  gay  as  yours  are  now. 

I  want  you  to  get  a  great  deal  of  gladness  and  cheer  to  bring 
back  with  you  from  all  the  bright  Columbus  cousins. 

Always  claim  and  keep  your  own  true  ground  as  "the  country 
cousins."  They  are  not  expected  to  know  "city  ways."  Remem- 
bering this  will  give  you  ease  and  comfort  wherever  you  are — ease 
which  comes  from  a  mind  unruffled  and  a  heart  at  "Peace." 

In  the  month  of  June,  1869,  Mrs.  Platt  had  the  pleasure  of  en- 
tertaining her  old  and  warm-hearted  friends,  Rev.  Dr.  Damon  and 
wife,  with  their  son  Frank,  from  Honolulu,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Canfield,  her  brother-in-law. 

The  mutual  enjoyment  afforded  by  this  visit,  the  brilliant  and 
deeply  interesting  conversation,  the  pleasant  reminiscences  of  past 


156  A  MOTHER'S  MEMENTO. 

years,  the  genial  manners  of  Dr.  Damon,  his  stories  of  Sandwich 
Island  life  where  he  had  then  been  for  some  thirty  years,  cannot 
be  described,  but  may  be  faintly  inferred  from  the  correspondence 
with  him. 

So  intense  was  Dr.  Damon's  enjoyment  of  this  visit,  that  he  would 
often  jump  up  from  his  seat  and  walk  around  at  a  lively  pace  to  give 
vent  to  his  exuberance  of  feeling;  his  happiness  seemed  to  be  com- 
plete. 

It  was  indeed  to  them  "The  feast  of  reason  and  the  flow  of 
soul." 


BIRTHDAY  LETTER  TO  E. 

AT  HOME,  Aug.  9,  1869. 
MY  DEAREST  DAUGHTER: — 

In  church  to  day  your  birthday  came  many  times  before  me, 
thought  going  back  and  stretching  forward  twenty-one  years! 
God  has  been  very  gracious !  The  tiny  babe  that  dear  grandma 
said  "you  can  scarcely  hope  to  rear;"  then  the  very  little  life 
began  of  which  I  so  often  thought,  "twenty  years  are  so  long  time 
to  come,  I  shall  not  live  to  ever  see  her  twenty-first  birthday;"  yet 
how  very  gracious  has  God  been.  It  seems  as  if  He  has  fulfilled 
all — all  my  petitions  for  you!  With  thanks,  then,  for  all  His  past, 
I  would  leave  securely  all  the  future  with  Him.  Whether  one  or 
both  "wake  or  sleep"  when  twenty-one  more  years  shall  have  been 
numbered,  the  same  infinite  love  and  power  and  tenderness  shall 
keep  us.  .  "He  is  faithful  that  promised."  There  is  One  knows 
all  my  thoughts  and  wishes  for  you.  I  wanted  to  write  these  few 
words  for  you  to  put  away  as  a  little  memento  of  mother  and  your 
birthday  and  this  Holy  communion  Sunday. 

Our  dear  old  honored  church  is  just  now  passing  through  a 
"fiery  trial"  from  foes  within  and  without,  and  papers  are  tinged 
with  the  bitter  controversies;  but  she  has  withstood  more  than  this, 
and  if  her  Great  Head  is  with  her,  if  her  doctrines  and  usages  are 
in  accordance  with  His  holy  word,  then  she  shall  stand,  even  unto 
the  end. 

The  older  I  grow  the  more  and  more  I  love  her  ways;  I  believe 
no  church  more  clearly  holds  forth  "Jesus  Christ  and  Him  cruci- 


BEST   TO    FOLLOW   DUTY.  157 

fied;"  and  the  more  spiritual  a  mind  becomes  the  more  she  is  un- 
derstood and  loved. 

As  to  Baptism.  The  term  "regenerate"  I  do  not  care  one  pin 
— am  not  the  least  interested  in  the  matter — if  weak  brothers  are 
offended  and  stumble  at  its  use,  better  take  it  away  for  them ;  it 
can  never  hurt  me.  An  old  Bible  and  an  old  English  word,  used 
when  the  modern  meaning  was  not  attached  to  it.  It  did  not  then 
mean  renovation,  only  a  change  of  state  or  place. 

The  Jewish  children  were  admitted  into  the  "old  dispensation" 
through  circumcision,  our  children  into  the  "new  dispensation" 
through  baptism.  I  see  no  difference.  Then  and  now  children 
were  made  members  of  the  visible  family  of  God,  and  promises 
were  sealed  to  them  and  made  sure  if  they  kept  their  part  of  the 
covenant  promised  for  them  by  their  sureties. 

TO  HER  HUSBAND  IN  NEW  YORK. 

August  31,  1869. 

Yours  from  Canton  just  come ;  so  sorry  you  have  had  headache 
to  trouble  your  visit.  But  better  there  with  H.  than  among  strangers 
in  New  York.  So  a  loving  Providence  arranges  all  our  "changes" 
for  us,  giving  not  one  needless  pain  or  trial.  The  "  pitifulnes"  of 
His  love — how  little  can  we  measure  it !  How  wholly  may  we  trust 

it,  and  not  be  afraid How  always  best  it  is  to  follow 

on,  step  by  step,  in  simple,  plain  duty,  leaving  God  to  provide  for 
all  result. 

TO  H.  P.  IN  MICHIGAN. 

DELAWARE,  Easter  Evening,  April  9,  1871. 
MY  DEAR  H.  :  — 

We  followed  you,  and  fixed  you  in  Jonesville,  and  hope  soon, 

very  soon,  to  hear  from  you I  was  going  to  say  I 

was  anxious  to  know  all  about  the  final  arrangements  you  and  Gen- 
eral G.  made.  But  I  cannot  be  anxious,  "  remembering  the  spar- 
rows," as  Miss  L.  M.  says.  Just  look  at  it:  "Are  not  five  spar- 
rows sold  for  two  farthings  ?  Yet  not  one  of  them  is  forgotten 
before  God.  'Ye  are  of  more  value  than  many  sparrows."  Noth- 


158  SPARROW    DOCTRINE. 

ing,  then,  that  touches  the  life  of  an  immortal  being  can  be  unno- 
ticed, uncared  for,  by  the  one  "our  Father."  This  is  simply  im- 
possible ;  so,  my  dear  boy,  I  know  God  cares  for  you ;  that  He 
is  "about  your  path  and  about  your  bed,"  your  never-failing 
Guardian  and  Guide.  Through  all  the  various  propositions  that 
have  lately  perplexed  us,  to  know  what  was  best  for  you,  the  one 
only  prayer  has  been,  "  Lead  him  just  where  Thou  wilt  be  nearest 
to  him,  to  keep  him  from  evil !" 

J.  has  just  come  in  with  N.  and  says,  "  Do  tell  him  to  write  to 
me,"  and  so  you  must.  Always  remember  father,  and  I  will  give 
way  for  letters  between  you  children.  We  want  you  all  to  be  very 
much  to  each  other,  and,  as  a  family,  to  stand  by  each  other 
through  all  the  long  years  to  come,  when  we  are  gone. 

Your  loving 

MOTHER. 

TO  L.  E.  S. 

"HAPPY    NEW   YEAR." 

DELAWARE,  OHIO,  June  2,  1872. 
MY  DEAR  FRIEND  : — 

I  must  call  you  that ;  what  else  can  I  say  of  one  God  has  led  so 
close  to  my  lonely  brother's  life,  bringing  such  freshness  and 
pleasant  intercourse  to  him  ? 

Having  such  faith  in  the  "sparrow  doctrine,"  as  I  call  it,  I  can 
see  no  jostling  together  by  chance  of  human  beings  immortal.  We 
are  never  out  of  our  Father's  sight  and  guidance.  Nothing  can 
touch  our  hearts  or  life  and  He  not  see,  permit,  and  mean  to 
bless,  if  we  simply  look  to  and  trust  in  Him.  So  your  friendship 
at  this  time  for  dear  brother  is  from  Him. 

John  is  one  that  makes  much  of  his  friends ;  that  rare,  pure, 
single-hearted  nature,  with  youth  all  past,  he  still  remains  "an 
orphan  boy"  in  so  many,  many  things,  and  God  takes  care  of  him 
as  such,  I  feel  very  sure,  for  "  He  knoweth  our  frame"  and  "  re- 
membereth."  Dependent  and  burdened  ones  He  keeps  closest  in 
His  care. 

But  I  want  to  thank  you  for  your  letter,  and  the  frank,  free  man- 
ner with  which  you  take  me  as  an  old  friend.  A  little,  undignified 
body,  as  I  am,  can  appreciate  no  other  style. 


WOMAN'S  LOVE.  159 

Despite  the  disavowal,  I  do  assume  that  a  young  man,  right- 
minded  and  true-hearted,  is,  at  twenty-five,  somewhat  concerned  in 
matrimony;  for,  unless  a  loving  Father  has  laid  some  barrier  across 
his  path,  or  filled  his  hands  and  heart  with  care  of  other  loved 
ones,  surely  he  must  be  waiting  and  watching  for  his  Eve.  Yes, 
Eve.  Does  not  God  love  and  care  for  man's  wants  now?  Re- 
deemed and  brought  back  to  Him  by  the  blood  of  Jesus,  are  we 
not  the  objects  of  His  tenderest  care  ?  You  will  smile,  but  I  be- 
lieve there  are  Sarahs,  Rebekahs,  Rachels,  and  Ruths  now  upon 
the  earth  whom  God  has  selected,  fitted,  and  holds  waiting  for  His 
bidding, — for  that  state  in  life  to  which  it  shall  please  God  to  call 
them. 

Oh,  if  woman  had  not  this  anchor  of  trust  and  faith,  could  she 
ever  take  that  one  step  that  seals  her  happiness  or  misery  for  life? 
For 

"  How  strong  and  beautiful  is  woman's  love, 
That,  taking  in  its  hand  the  joys  of  home, 
The  tenderest  melodies  of  tuneful  years, 
Yea,  and  its  own  life  also,  lays  them  all, 
Meek  and  unflinching,  on  a  mortal's  breast; 
Reserving  naught,  save  that  unspoken  hope 
Which  hath  its  rest  in  God." 

If  you  have  read  "Pink  and  White  Tyranny,"  I  think  you  will  so 
feel  with  "John" — strong,  true,  but  poor  deluded  "John" — that  you 
will  see  how  a  man  needs  God's  help  when  looking  for  his  Eve. 

The  book  has  its  faults,  but  is,  I  think,  a  true  picture  of  married 
life,  where  a  man  has  blindly  followed  his  mere  fancy — the  end  of 
many  a  "falling  in  love."  "Poor  John."  If  you  were  sitting 
here  I  could  tell  you  just  where  I  think  he  began  his  mistakes  and 
missteps  that  led  to  such  dreadful  shipwreck.  He  belonged  to 
"the  people  of  God."  Two  cannot  walk  together  happily  long, 
unless  they  are  agreed.  No  woman  can  be  in  her  homelife  all  she 
ought  to  be,  unless  God  be  her  helper.  It  is  impossible.  It  was 
due  John's  blessed  Master  to  make  sure  that  "  Lillie"  loved  Him; 
that  was  the  first  duty.  How  can  a  man  or  woman  step  on  heaven- 
ward, with  his  closest  clinging  companion's  face  turned  the  other 
way?  Do  you  say  that  miserable  Lillie  would  have  deceived  him 
and  "put  on  religion"  to  gain  her  end  ?  I  cannot  think  so.  John 
had  an  unseen  Friend  too  near.  One  who  never  permits  an  ill  to 


l6o  TRUE    MARRIAGE. 

come  to  those  who  wholly  put  their  trust  in  Him.  Now,  I  do  not 
say  that  He  never  permits  a  sorrow,  or  pain,  or  trial.  Remember, 
He  holds  our  complete  history  in  His  hand,  and  He  has  placed  each 
one  in  this  brief  life  on  probation  for  discipline.  No  doubt  many 
a  soul  has  been  prepared  for  eternal  life  through  the  sorrow  and 
pain,  the  crossed  purposes  and  disappointments  of  married  life. 
He  knows  what  we  each  need,  what  discipline  is  best,  what  will  be 
safest,  and  soonest  fit  us  for  our  Home  above. 

The  one  great  truth — golden  truth —  brought  out  in  "Pink  and 
White  Tyranny"  (would  that  it  were  graven  upon  every  young  ear- 
nest heart ! )  is  this :  The  great  object  of  life  is  not  happiness.  And 
when  we  have  lost  our  own  personal  happiness,  we  have  not  lost 
all  that  life  is  worth  living  for.  No,  the  very  best  of  life  often 
lies  beyond  that".  When  we  have  learned  to  let  ourselves  go,  then 
we  may  find  that  there  is  a  better,  a  nobler,  and  a  truer  life  for  us. 

.Of  one  thing,  "Friend  L.,"  be  very  sure:  There  is  One  who 
tenderly  cares  for  our  happiness  here  with  infinitely  more  than  the 
most  loving  mother's  care.  If  we  do  "acknowledge  Him  in  all 
our  ways,  He  will  direct  our  paths."  This  is  His  own  promise 
that  has  never  failed.  Through  pain,  disappointment,  and  the 
darkest  earthly  trial,  our  happiness  will  be  safe.  He  will  see  to 
that. 

And  when  He  has  brought  about  your  heart  and  life  the  circum- 
stances that  seek  a  close  companion,  He  will  "provide,"  and  guide 
your  every  step,  if  you  commit  all  to  His  hands.  And  He  only 
can  help.  Our  own  or  another's  wisdom  may  utterly  fail.  The 
"little  step"  is  a  fearful  venture;  with  all  the  light  we  can,  by 
closest  intercourse  before  marriage,  gain,  there  is,  must  be,  utter 
ignorance.  There  may  be  a  few  years,  perhaps,  of  "smooth  sail- 
ing," but  every  life  has  its  stormy  days  of  peril  sooner  or  later, 
when  the  one  close  companion  is  tested  and  tried. 

I  do  not  believe  any  "union  of  hearts  and  hands"  is  truly  blessed, 
that  has  not  God's  blessing  upon  it.  So  our  dear  old  church  en- 
joins all  persons  to  look  at  this  subject  "reverently,  discreetly, 
advisedly,  soberly,  and  in  the  fear  of  God."  True  marriage 
should  be  the  "dwelling  together  as  fellow-heirs  of  the  grace  of 
life." 

Now  what  can  I  say,  why  all  this  long,  long  New  Year's  letter 
goes  to  you,  so  unstudied,  so  free,  as  if  to  a  young  brother?  Again 


AN  OLD  PILGRIM'S  WORDS.  161 

I  say,  God  only  can  help  and  guide  when  two  seek  to  put  on  "  that 
harness  which  the  minister  of  death  alone  unlooseth,  and  whose 
power  doth  aid  or  mar  the  journey  of  the  soul  to  heaven." 

If  an  old  pilgrim's  words  ever  can  give  a  gleam  of  light,  do 
write  to 

Your  old  true  friend, 

J.  H.  PLATT. 


ii 


1 62  TRIP   TO    NEW   YORK. 


XV. 

"As  in  water,  face  answereth  to  face,  so  the  heart  of  man  to  man." 

Goes  East  with  Mrs.  McC. — A  loving  arrangement — ^Congenial  spirits — St.  Bar- 
nabas House,  N.  Y. — Atlantic  City — The  wide,  wide  ocean — Delightful  meet- 
ing of  friends — W.  J.  Allison — The  Dewdrop — Miss  Harland,  her  former 
Bible-class  teacher — Hulmeville — Boat  ride  on  the  Neshaminy — Up  the  Hud- 
son— Mott  Farm,  Highlands — A  picture — Giving  pleasure.  June  to  September, 
1872. 

[MONDAY,  June  17,  Mrs.  Platt  started  for  New  York, — met 
Mrs.  McCabe  at  the  station,  who  was  also  going  without  an  escort. 
The  two  were  mutually  pleased  at  the  happy  providence  that  thus 
made  them  companions  for  the  journey.  Mr.  P.  went  with  them 
as  far  as  Crestline.] 

TO  HER  HUSBAND. 

NEW  YORK,  June  20,  1871. 

The  night  you  left  me  at  Crestline  I  did  so  want  to  run  after 
you,  and  say  "a  good  good-bye"  in  the  hall,  and  not  in  kind 
Mrs.  McCabe's  presence.  If  I  had  been  sure  that  I  could  find  you, 
I  believe  I  would  have  tried.  We  heard  the  cars  go  out  that  car- 
ried you  away.  I  was  so  glad  you  were  there,  and  had  kindly 
waited  to  see  us  "all  fixed."  We  did  not  sleep  very  much,  but 
rested,  and  at  3  A.  M.  were  up  dressing,  and  all  ready  for  the  4 
o'clock  cars.  The  morning  was  so  lovely  !  Indeed,  that  whole 
day  of  car  ride  was  beautiful  beyond  description  !  To  see  sunrise 
and  sunset  upon  the  mountains,  those  grand  old  "^everlasting 
hills  !"  Was  it  not  a  loving  arrangement  that  made  one  so  con- 
genial as  Mrs.  McCabe  my  companion  ?  There  was  such  perfect 
unison  in  our  enjoyment  of  everything. 

We  were  detained  near  Wooster  two  hours, — "a  freight  train  off 
the  track."  I  went  into  a  roadside  house  and  had  my  tea-bottle 


A    CHARMING   HOME.  163 

filled  with  milk  ;  so  we  had  a  good  breakfast.  We  supposed  the 
detention  would  break  connection,  and  give  us  hours  at  Pittsburg ; 
but  no,  a  "special  car"  took  us  right  on  without  waiting  even  for 
dinner  ("  twenty  minutes").  Mrs.  McC.  went  out  and  brought  in 
some  large  strawberries,  rolled  in  sugar ;  I  never  saw  finer  ones. 
So  our  dinner  was  delicious. 

It  was  dark  when  we  reached  Altoona.  By  that  time  our  heads 

were  tired  out  looking  at  beautiful  views I  kept  little 

Kittie — such  a  sweet,  good  child — and  Mrs.  McCabe  went  into  the 
supper-room  and  brought  a  pitcherful  of  hot  tea,  and  such  biscuits 
as  are  only  found  in  that  "mountain  home."  So  we  were  re- 
freshed, and  soon  after  "settled"  for  the  night 

At  3  A.  M.  we  were  awakened  by  some  one  asking  for  New 
York,  or  Philadelphia?  and  the  Philadelphia  ones  were  hurried 
out  in  the  last  car,  and  that  was  the  last  I  saw  of  dear  little  sleeping 
Kittie  and  her  mother. 

At  6.30  we  were  in  Jersey  City,  and  sister  E.  stood  waiting  on 
the  New  York  side.  The  last  few  hours'  ride  was  full  of  weari- 
ness; but,  with  E.'s  cheering  face,  and  a  good  breakfast  brought 
to  my  bed,  I  was  very  much  rested,  and  to-day  begin  to  feel  some- 
what like  myself.  You  may  laugh,  but  I  am  charmed  with  sister 
E.'s  home  and  the  whole  household  arrangements, — her  wonderful 
children, — her  sweet,  young  helpers, — all,  everything.  I  do  not 
wonder  N.  lost  her  heart  here,  at  all.  Nobody  had  told  me  anything 
about  this  Home. 


FROM  MRS.  PLATT  TO  MRS.  McCABE. 

NEW  YORK,  Saturday,  A.  M.,  304  Mulberry  St. 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  McCABE  : — 

I  missed  you  and  dear  little  Kitty  very  much.  Is  it  not  wonder- 
ful what  one  presence,  one  titled  personage,  can  bring  us?  Honor 
and  comfort  seemed  to  depart  with  my  friend's  separation.  The 
New  York  conductor  was  not  at  all  impressed  by  my  "long  journey 
ticket;"  and  though,  I  believe,  the  only  lady  left,  I  seemed  evi- 
dently but  an  ordinary,  lonely  old  person  in  his  august  eyes.  So 
I  was  left  to  count  up  just  how  tired  my  heart  was,  until  I  saw  my 
dear  sister's  patient  face  waiting  for  me  on  the  New  York  shore,  at 


164  SEED   TIME. 

6£  o'clock.  I  can  never  think  of  our  brief  journey  together  but 
as  days  full  of  God -sent  mercy  and  comfort,  "  the  sure  provision" 
of  Him  who  knew  just  my  need  for  heart,  soul,  and  body, — out  of 
all  the  world  of  human  beings,  selecting  for  companion  just  the  one. 

You  speak  of  the  cool  Philadelphia  breezes.  What  can  I  say 
as  tribute  to  this  sea-air  and  night-breeze  ?  In  comparison  Ohio 
nights  seem  one  smother. 

I  am  much,  very  much,  pleased  with  this  dear  sister's  work  for 
the  Master, — such  pure,  true,  unselfish  life-work  for  the  "poor 
always  with  us."  If  the  heat  will  permit,  cannot  you  call  and  look 
over  this  institution  when  in  New  York  ?  I  may  go  to  New  Jersey 
next  week,  hoping  to  return  and  finish  my  visit  hereafter.  What 
will  be  your  address  at  the  end  of  four  weeks  ?  With  kiss  to  dear, 
sweet  Kitty, 

Affectionately, 

J.  H.  PLATT. 

/ 

ST.  BARNABAS  HOUSE,  N.  Y.,  June  23,  1872. 

MY  OWN  DEAR  HUSBAND  :  — 

How  thought  was  turned  back'  to  you  and  each  dear  child 
separated  from  me  to-day.  May  God,  our  own  covenant-keeping 
God,  hold  each  beloved  one  in  His  safe  and  holy  keeping ! 

I  suppose  you  are  going  over  your  usual  Scripture  reading  about 
this  time.  This  morning  I  had  the  Old  Women's  Bible  Lesson  in 
the  "sewing-room."  I  think  all  the  work  is  blessed  here.  All 
must  bring  a  blessing  upon  giver  and  receiver,  if  done  unto  Him 
and  in  His  name.  I  have  not  been  out  of  the  house;  these  have 
been  just  days  of  blessed  rest.  I  love  the  services  with  these  poor 
women  and  children,  gathered  in  to  partake  of  the  feast  of  the 
"  glad  tidings."  Oh,  what  sowing  of  the  seed  it  all  seems  !  seed 
that  cannot  perish,  but  must  spring  up,  bud,  and  bloom  in  many 
and  many  a  heart  to  life  eternal.  God's  blessing  rest  upon  this 
mission  of  love  to  His  poor  ! 

These  little  children  are  wonderful ;  how  they  interest  me  !  I 
want  to  send  them  off — some  of  them  are  so  sweet — to  those  who 
have  no  children.  How  well  they  behave  !  their  interest  in  the 
service  is  so  heartfelt ;  the  wee-est  ones  singing  away ;  each  chant 
the  Te  Deum,  too,  with  little,  folded  hands,  with  all  their  might — 


AN    OLD    TRUE    FRIEND.  165 

their  singing  so  sweet  and  full  !     Some  of  them  only  three  and  a 

half  years  old A  little  boy  of  eight  or  nine  years 

came  in  from  the  street  this  morning  and  stood  just  before  m« 
during  service.  Every  place  did  he  find,  and  every  chant  sing  with 
all  his  might. 

BURLINGTON,  N.  J.,  July  i,  1872. 
MY  PRECIOUS  HUSBAND  : — 

I  was  so  glad  to  get  your  letter  of  the  2yth  on  Saturday  eve. 
.  .  .  My  Sunday  was  very  much  as  the  last  in  Delaware, — 
just  resting, — my  head  not  able  to  go  to  church  in  the  burning  sun. 
Was  better  toward  evening ;  went  with  Jane,  and  sat  in  the  same 
little  Presbyterian  church  where  Martha  and  I  sat  side  by  side  so 
often,  "testifying"  against  "  Puseyism"  (Ritualism) 

A  good  night's  sleep  has  made  me  myself  again  this  morning. 
Oh,  I  was  so  homesick  all  yesterday  !  Such  a  heart-longing  for 
you,  my  own  precious  husband,  and  all  the  dear  children.  You 
are  ten  thousand  times  more  to  me  than  "Eastern  friends."  Still, 
I  think  it  was  right  to  come  now.  God  will  overrule  this  sum- 
mer's visit,  and  count  it  among  the  "all  things"  that  "work 
together  for  good."  .... 

To-day  came  this  letter  from  Miss  Harland.  I  think  I  shall 
accept  her  invitation.  I  long  to  try  the  ocean  breezes  upon  this 
poor  head,  and  is  not  this  present  opportunity  laid  at  my  door  ? 

[Miss  Harland  was  in  former  days  her  Sunday-school  teacher, 
and  ever  after  a  firm,  true  friend.  The  scholar  was  the  first  to 
enter  the  "  heavenly  rest,"  the  teacher  following  soon  after.  Miss 
Harland  died  in  Philadelphia. 

Mrs.  Platt  went  to  Atlantic  City,  as  the  guest  of  Miss  Harland, 
in  company  with  her  sister  S.  and  cousin  J.  A.] 

ATLANTIC  CITY,  July  3,  1872. 

Wanting  to  get  a  letter  to  you  I  have  left  my  bed  a  little  after  3 
o'clock  this  morning, — hoping,  too,  to  see  an  ocean  sunrise.  .  .  . 
My  room  has  the  sunset  sweep. 

A  full  view  of  the  wide,  wide  ocean  !  .  Who  can  guess  its  glory, 
its  soulful  meaning,  its  resting  power !  .  .  .  .  We  arrived 
here  at  n  o'clock.  How  glad  Miss  Harland  was  !  You  should 


1 66  THE   DEWDROP. 

have  seen  her  delight  over  your  wife, — so  glad,  so  glad  I  was  not 
at  all  like  my  picture, — "  not  changed  one  bit ;  the  same  face ;  the 

same  expression,"  etc.  etc Tell  Mrs.  Tuttle  my  old 

friend,  W.  J.  Allison,  is  here,  friend  Gurney's  guest,  who  has  a 
cottage.  He  is  only  a  wreck  of  my  old  friend, — all  from  two 
strokes  of  paralysis.  Jane  and  I  called  to  see  him  last  evening. 
What  a  favor  to  get  here !  How  much  good  has  been  planned  out 
for  this  visit !  Our  Father's  love,  who  can  measure  it? 

ATLANTIC  CITY,  July  7,  1872. 

I  began  this,  so  far  as  date,  yesterday,  in  answer  to  your  good, 
long  letter  of  last  Sunday!  I  was  so  delighted  to  hear  all  about  your 
Sunday  with  A.  and  M.  F.  How  nicely  "our  girls"  do  !  I  read 
most  of  your  letter  to  Miss  Harland.  She  thinks  there  are  not  many 

girls  equal  to  ours.  We  are  sure  of  this  fact I  can 

imagine  Dr.  Ufford's  good  sermon  upon  "  My  peace  I  give  unto 
you."  I  have  heard  nothing  of  preaching,  since  I  left  home,  at 
all  to  be  compared  to  our  pasture  food  at  home.  I  doubt  if,  in  all 
the  country,  there  are  many  better  preachers  than  ours 

A  little  party  from  Burlington,  W.  J.  Allison  and  family,  joined 
us  here  on  Saturday.  He  and  wife  are  "approved  preachers"  in 
the  Society  of  Friends.  He  was  brother  James's  schoolmate  and 
friend;  and  his  wife — "the  Dewdrop,"  as  he  has  always  called 
her — is  a  most  winning  and  lovely  woman.  I  remember  her  as  the 
pretty  little  Quakeress  bride,  long  years  ago.  They  invited  us  in 
to  a  "  reading  of  the  Scriptures,"  Saturday  morning.  A  chapter 
was  read  most  beautifully ;  and  then,  after  a  silence  of  a  few  mo- 
ments, Rebecca  (the  wife)  kneeled  by  her  husband's  side  (he  a 
great  invalid,  in  an  easy  chair),  and,  laying  her  hand  on  his,  she 
"  poured  out  her  heart  in  supplication  and  praise."  Miss  Harland 
and  J.  and  others  were  present.  It  was  "good  to  be  there. '' 

July  8,  1872. 

Yesterday  Miss  Harland  and  I  went  to  our  church.  The  service 
was  so  pleasant  and  refreshing.  Gathered  from  all  parts  of  our 
country,  yet  all  meeting  and  joining  in  our  common  service  "with 
one  accord,"  as  if  brethren  of  one  household,  children  of  one 
Father,  coming  unto  Him  through  the  same  "household  words." 


HOMESICK.  167 

[Returned  to  Burlington,  July  9th,  with  J.] 

I  do  think  the  sea-air  and  bathing  helped  me,  but  the  expense 
was  too  great.  If  you  can  find  time  to  go  to  Martha's  Vineyard  I 
would  rather  save  now,  that  we  may  go  together  there, — our 
"silver  wedding"  trip,  you  know.  And  now  will  try  to  finish  up 
peeps  at  old  friends.  I  am  so  glad  and  thankful  that  you  all  are 
so  good  in  trying  to  get  on  so  nicely  "without  mother."  This 
thought  is  half  the  pleasure  of  my  visit. 

HULMEVILLE,  July  l6,  1872. 

Your  letter  and  dear  H 's  came  last  Saturday,  just  as  I  was 

leaving  for  Pennsylvania.  Is  not  the  dear  boy  a  comfort?  and 
that  is  not  half  a  word  to  tell  what  he  is  to  us.  And,  best  of  all, 
we  cannot  see  and  feel  his  sense  of  what  he  owes  his  earthly  parents, 
and  not  believe  that  the  same  strength  and  "help"  that  have  given 
to  him  this  appreciation,  will  draw  him  more  and  more  to  his  one 
Eternal  Father  in  heaven 

Yesterday,  early  after  breakfast,  Charley,  Winnie,  and  Carrie 
H.  took  me  a  boat-ride  up  this  beautiful  creek,  Neshaminy,  in  a 
little  row-boat  with  white  awning  over  it.  We  floated  along  up  the 
stream,  under  hanging  trees,  two  miles ;  then  climbed  up  some  rocks, 
and  saw  such  a  miniature  cascade  as  our  children  never  saw.  From 
somewhere  a  hillside  spring  comes  tumbling  down  a  ravine  from 
broken  rock  to  rock,  dashing,  splashing,  gushing  over  mossy 
stones,  drooping  ferns,  and  little  "teaberry"  vines.  Always  run- 
ning away,  until  held  still  by  Jack  Frost  in  midwinter.  Now,  all 
this  sounds  perfect  in  beauty.  But  what  moment  or  scene  is  per- 
fect in  enjoyment  ?  I  hope  these  dear  children — the  willing,  toil- 
ing rower — thought  cousin  Jeanette  did  most  heartily  enjoy  her 
ride ;  -and  so  she  did,  in  a  sense,  but  I  never  was  so  wholly  home- 
sick in  my  longing  for  some  of  my  own  far  home  ones  as  I  was 
when  gliding  up  that  beautiful  stream.  I  just  kept  saying,  over  and 
over,  "How  he,  my  own  dear  husband, — >how  they,  my  own  dear 
children,  would  have  enjoyed  this  ride  !" 

One  thing,  I  think,  is  very  certain,  I  will  never  visit  alone  again. 
It  does  not,  cannot  pay. 


1 68  TRUE   PLEASURE. 

MOTT  FARM,  HIGHLANDS,  N.  J.,  Aug.  6,  1872. 

.  .  .  .  Do  you  remember  my  pet  "piece,"  from  Appleton's 
Journal,  "Berkshire  Glorified?"  Well,  I  have  seen  it  all,  and 
actually  "made  the  picture"  that  headed  the  article  (a  lady  re- 
clining upon  her  elbow  on  a  couch,  looking  out  upon  the  loveliest 
landscape).  Never  were  so  beautiful  views,  as  are  all  over  this 
Highland  farm  beside  the  Hudson.  But  sunshine  and  shadow  go 
together.  The  strong  breeze  upon  the  boat,  coming  up  the  river 
last  Thursday  (August  i),  gave  me  a  cold,  and  without  being,  per- 
haps, actually  sick,  I  have  been  upon  the  bed  until  a  few  hours 
ago  this  evening,  and  have  gone  through  all  the  Western  and  Eastern 
remedies,  closing  with  quinine 

Well,  I  am  so  heart-full  of  thankfulness  to  be  well  again.  The 
very  least  possible  ill  was  permitted  to  come  to  me  from  such  ex- 
posure;  I  am  sure  of  this.  And  such  good,  loving  nursing  as  I 
have  had  here  !  But  such  thoughts  of  home  !  Yet  God  has  ever 
kept  me  peaceful  in  and  through  all  this  separation,  in  the  full 
belief  it  was  His  will,  and  the  ordering  of  His  loving  providence, 
that  I  could  have  no  one  of  my  own  precious  flock  with  me  on  the 
journey.  It  is,  must  be,  "all  well." 

It  does  seem  and  sound  dreadfully  self-conceited,  but  I  think  it, 
and  so  say  it  (as  I  have  ever  said  all  things  to  you,  dear  husband) — 
I  think  this  journey  has  been  so  pleasant,  given  so  much  pleasure 
to  so  many,  wherever  your  wife  has.  been.  Yes,  I  count  this  first 
among  the  gains.  I  came  to  give  others  pleasure,  and  have  been 
permitted  to  do  so. 

Expect  to  go  back  to  New  York  on  Tuesday  next. 

[Her  husband  joined  her  in  New  York  about  the  first  of  September,  and  they 
passed  some  two  weeks  together  visiting  friends  in  New  York,  New  Jersey,  and 
Philadelphia, — returning  home  September  I3th.] 


AN   INVITATION.  169 


XVI. 

"  The  lips  of  the  righteous  feed  many." 

Letters  to  Mrs.  Maccracken— S.  C.  D. — L.  E.  S. — H.  P. — Death  of  her  brother 
John — Our  loved  ones  who  have  gone  before  are  still  near  to  us — Visit  to 
Toledo — George  Eliot's  books — Opinion  of  other  authors — A  happy  home — 
Views  of  marriage — A  higher  school — Old  Florence  dial,  "  I  count  the  hours 
that  shine."  September,  1872,  to  December,  1874. 

TO  MRS.  S.  C.  MACCRACKEN. 

DELAWARE,  OHIO,  September  25,  1872. 
MY  OWN  DEAR  COUSIN  : — 

MY  first  exclamation,  when  I  saw  your  letter,  was,  "  She  is  in 
Columbus  now;  I  shall  see  her  !"  I  think  it  must  have  been  that 
very  day  I  had  said  to  my  husband,  "  I  think  I  must  see  cousin 
Sarah,  if  only  for  one  night,  so  soon  as  you  can  spare  me  the  pen- 
nies to  take  me  to  Lancaster."  So,  when  I  read  that  you  were  in 
Columbus,  I  was  sure  to  see  you,  I  thought.  Oh,  why  did  not  you 
come?  Only  an  hour's  ride  ;  an  easy  carriage  always  at  the  depot 
to  carry  passengers  to  their  places.  Dear  cousin,  I  do  so  want  you 
to  see  me  in  my  own  home  once  more  (a  hired  house,  to  be  sure, 
but  my  home  still,  and  husband  and  children  all  my  own).  Cannot 
you  come?  The  weather  is  so  lovely  now.  Let  John  or  Willie 
bring  you  to  Columbus,  and  I  will  meet  you  at  our  depot.  The 
change  will  do  you  good.  If  you  cannot  possibly,  then  I  must  go 
to  you  for  one  night.  I  cannot  stay  longer,  for  only  think  I  left 
them  all  for  three  months,  less  two  days !  And  they  were  all  so 
good  in  trying  to  do  without  me ;  but  I  cannot,  ought  not  to  leave 
them  again.  Yet  next  week  I  may  be  (Wednesday  night)  in 
Columbus,  in  order  to  attend  the  wedding  of  F.  S.,  our  niece.  Now, 
if  you  write  me  you  cannot  possibly  come  this  autumn,  then,  if  I 


1 70  DEAR    OLD    FRIENDS. 

can  find  the  spare  pennies,  I  think  I  must  run  to  Lancaster  for  one 
little  peep  at  you.  But,  indeed,  I  hardly  ought  to  leave  home  even 
for  so  short  a  visit ;  and  you  ought  to  come  here,  if  possible.  We 
have  open  fires,  and  you  shall  have  a  lower  room,  where  you  can  lie 
down  all  you  need.  Do  come. 

You  see  I  am  not  telling  you  by  letter  all  about  my  visit,  for  I 
want  to  see  you  and  tell  this  face  to  face.  I  did  not  get  back  until 
1 7th  of  September  !  When  parting  from  Miss  Harland,  of  Phila- 
delphia, the  day  I  left  (i6th  of  September),  she  said,  "  If  I  ever 
come  to  Ohio  I  want  to  see  Mrs.  Maccracken.  She  was  so  kind 
to  your  sister,  going  to  her  at  once,  soon  as  she  heard  of  her 
trouble."  She  sent  for  me  to  visit  her  a  week  at  the  seashore 
(Atlantic  City),  and  she  seemed  to  think  I  was  the  same  child  I 
was  forty  years  ago ;  and  I  think  every  moment  of  the  visit  was  a 
delight  to  her.  I  divided  my  time  among  the  dear  old  friends  and 
relations  at  Hulmeville,  Pa.,  Mount  Holly,  N.  J.,  Burlington,  Tren- 
ton, Philadelphia,  New  York,  Vermont,  and  a  week  among  the 
Highlands,  up  the  Hudson  near  Peekskill.  How  much  I  owe  for 
such  a  summer  !  I  was  three  weeks  with  Jane,  and  then  we  were 
in  Vermont  together.  She  is  more  lovely  than  ever.  We  often 
talked  of  you,  and  again  and  again  I  said,  "  I  am  going  to  write 
cousin  Sarah  to  day."  But,  indeed,  I  scarce  could  write  to  these 
dear  children  half  the  letters  I  ought.  They  would  not  let  me 
write — "the  weather  was  too  hot,  and  I  must  rest  my  eyes,"  they 
said 

Try  a  week  with  me.  You  shall  be  quiet  as  you  please.  We 
are  in  the  "Burned  House"  again. 

TO  REV.  S.  C.   DAMON. 

DELAWARE,  O.,  November  6,  1872. 
MY  DEAR  FRIEND  : — 

I  am  so  glad  and  pleased — grateful,  too — for  being  thus  made 
one  of  that  little,  inner  circle  to  whom  family  joys  and  sorrows  are 
told.  You  knew  I  should  so  appreciate  your  last  letter,  telling  of 

S 's  marriage,  and  I  was  so  glad  you  spoke  out,  that  you  were 

all  so  happy,  and  do  not  hesitate  to  say  so  to  inner  friends.  I  have 
not  had  your  experience,  but  your  letter  expresses,  I  am  sure,  my 
own  testimony,  if  God  shall  so  bless  my  children  in  a  "  helpmeet." 


GOOD    OLD    BIBLE   STORY.  .  1 71 

The  other  day  a  mother  said,  "A  wedding-day  is  to  parents  a  sad, 
tearful  day, — such  a  giving-up  day  !"  I  could  not  see  it  so;  and 
just  then  your  letter  came,  showing  I  was  right.  Believing  that  all 
our  "  earthly  steps  are  ordered,"  looking  at  all  our  children's  sur- 
roundings as  of  the  Lord's  planning,  when  such  a  gift  comes  as 
your  letter  tells  of,  surely  parents  can  only  rejoice.  When  the 
holy  estate  is  "  entered  into,  not  unadvisedly  or  lightly,  but  rever- 
ently, discreetly,  advisedly,  soberly,  and  in  the  fear  of  God," 
surely  we  may  count  upon  His  benediction  who  graced  Cana's 
marriage-feast,  and  believe  that  .He  will  add  His  grace,  "that  so 
living  together  in  this  life,  in  the  world  to  come  we  may  have  life 
everlasting."  I  believe  that  "matches  are  made  in  heaven"  for 
all  who  want  His  help,  and,  if  our  children  look  to  Him,  we  may 
promise  them,  as  of  old,  "The  Lord  God  of  heaven  shall  send 
His  angel  before  thee,"  and  He  will  truly  tell  "whom  the  Lord 
hath  appointed  out."  "The  thing  proceedeth  from  the  Lord." 
I  more  and  more  like  the  good  old  Bible  story,  with  its  holy  and 
comforting  suggestions,  and  I  now  join  with  you  all  in  the  general 

family  joy  and  welcome  to  this  "  our  first  daughter."  To  L 

may  she  be  a  Rebekah  indeed, — his  continual  comforter  and  joy; 
and  to  his  parents,  "  better  than  seven  sons." 

How  long  it  seems  since  I  have  talked  with  you  on  paper  !  Yet, 
as  time  rushes  on  as  it  does,  more  and  more,  faster  and  faster,  after 
we  go  beyond  fifty  years  (do  not  you  feel  this  hurry  of  time  ?), 
our  hearts  draw  closer  to  the  old,  old  friends  of  our  youth,  and 
we  can  never  forget  them,  nor  can  they  seem  very  distant,  so  much 
and  so  often  are  they  in  our  thoughts,  "even  though  there  be  no 
spoken  or  written  words.  Always  believe  that  of  me.  How  often 
I  thought  and  spoke  of  you  this  summer,  passing  some  weeks  in 

old  Burlington  with  "Cousin  J ,"  worshipping  with  her  in  the 

little  Presbyterian  church,  sitting  in  the  same  old  pew  where  sister 
Martha  and  I  so  often  sat  by  her  fa'ther,  listening  to  the  faithful 
preaching  of  the  Gospel. 

Mrs.  V R is  more  lovely  than  when  she  came  to  Bur- 
lington a  blushing  bride,  so  young  and  fair.  Such  a  sweet,  hal- 
lowed look,  I  never  saw  before ;  and  her  talk  so  tender  and  true 
of  the  husband  gone  before ;  so  full  of  the  brightness  of  hope. 
Her  whole  heart  is  absorbed  in  the  work  of  leading  on  her  children 
to  the  same  heavenly  home. 


172  OLDTOWN    FOLKS. 

I  had  a  delightful  summer,  from  the  igth  of  June  to  the  i5th  of 
September,  away  from  my  own  little  band  of  home  ones.  But  our 

darling  N was  a  wonderful  mother,  and  housekeeper,  too, 

aided  by  her  willing  helpers ;  and  no  one  was  sick,  or  suffered  from 
my  long  absence,  and  only  goodness  and  mercy  followed  each 
member  of  the  divided  family.  Friends  carried  me  about  every- 
where ;  one  week  I  was  among  the  Pennsylvania  relatives,  then  at 
the  seaside,  Atlantic  City,  with  a  dear  old  friend,  who  used  to  be 
my  Bible-class  teacher,  and  has  never  lost  her  interest  in  me  ;  some 

weeks  with  dear  sister  E in  New  York,  and  with  her  a  week 

among  the  Highlands,  with  excursions  up  and  down  the  beautiful 
Hudson.  I  met  all  Mrs.  Stowe's  "  Oldtown  Folks"  in  Arlington, 
Vt.  What  a  wonderful  people  are  the  dwellers  in  that  beautiful 
Vermont  valley  !  What  scenery  is  theirs, — those  Green  Mountain 
views,  painted  before  me  in  ever-living  freshness  !  I  have  heard 
some  people  say  past  pleasures  are  like  a  dream.  Not  so  with  me, 
as  living  present  pictures  stands  this  past  summer.  There  was  so 
much  to  enjoy ;  little  surprising  pleasures  at  every  step ;  and  that 
I  could  still  enjoy  all,  was  not  too  old,  that  was  the  most  surprising 
of  all. 

Thanks  for  the  sight  of  the  old  home-picture,  with  the  mother 
and  brother  standing  in  the  yard.  The  old  house  looks  full  of 
broad  hospitality,  with  rooms  to  hold  children  and  grandchildren. 

Does  your  mother  still  live  ?  I  am  just  going  to  write  to  F ; 

all  summer  I  have  had  to  neglect  him,  with  many  other  correspond- 
ents. You  may  well  be  proud  or  thankful  over  F 's  college 

course.  May  the  Good  Shepherd  keep  him  very  close  to  His  side  1 

I  have  not  half  told  you  of  my  Eastern  trip,  or  of  my  very 
pleasant  return  home  with  my  dear  husband.  You  need  never 
assure  him  of  your  full  appreciation  of  the  Episcopal  Church ;  he 
knows  you  almost  as  well  as  does  his  wife,  and  with  almost  the 
same  liking. 

TO  MR.  L.  E.  S. 

DELAWARE,  February  22,  1873. 
MY  DEAR  FRIEND  : — 

You  know  I  thank  you  for  giving  to  me  what  no  other  could. 
How  much  we  all  owe  to  you!  The  Lord  "will  recompense." 
It  was  His  hand  that  marked  out  and  led  your  path  into  that  of  our 


NEARNESS    OF    DEPARTED    FRIENDS.  173 

dear  brother's,  and  made  your  fresh  young  life  so  much,  so  very 
much  to  him.  Again,  I  say,  I  know  God  will  repay,  and  give  back 
to  you  in  happiness  all  that  you  were  able  to  give  to  that  dear 
lonely  one.  May  the  memory  of  this  friend,  to  whom  you  minis- 
tered, be  ever  as  a  sweet  call  to  trust  wholly  "our  Father  which 
art  in  heaven."  Yes,  trust  wholly,  believing  that  He  "  careth  for 
you"  with  infinite  pity  and  boundless  love. 

This  dear  brother's  life — its  gentle,  peaceful,  even  tenor — how 
God  ever  "tempered  the  wind,"  and  sheltered,  guided,  and 
guarded  ;  cared  for  him  with  more  than  a  mother's  care,  supply- 
ing every  want,  raising  up  just  such  friends  as  would  give  joy  and 
comfort,  and  then  crowning  all  with  calling  home  before  one  cold 
evening  shadow  touched  him, — taking  him  into  His  "presence, 
where  there  is  fulness  of  joy,  and  pleasures  for  evermore."* 

How  I  wish  you  could  sit  down  by  me,  and  let  me  talk  about 
dear  John  !  Call  him  John ;  was  not  that  the  name  you  used  ? 
He  would  like  to  be  remembered*  much,  and  often  talked  about. 
You  and  I  do  not  know  how  thin  may  be  the  separating  veil  be- 
tween the  seen  and  unseen  worlds;  how  near  freed,  blessed  spirits 
are  permitted  to  come ;  how  closely  they  watch  and  wait,  and 
enter  into  the  happiness  of  the  loved  ones  left  behind.  I  have  no 
theories,  am  no  spiritualist,  but  I  see  nothing  in  the  Bible  to  forbid 
the  thought  that  our  loved  ones  know  and  love  us  still,  and  may 
not  be  far  away.  Does  not  this  help  to  make  our  lives  pure,  pa- 
tient? Are  not  these  our  friends,  "gone  before,"  as- bright  links 
that  hold  us  to  the  Home  above? 

Were  you  here  I  would  go  back  to  childhood's  days,  and  tell 
you  of  your  friend.  He  and  I  were  in  the  middle  of  "our  eight." 
In  all  my  life  no  other  heart  has  so  blindly  loved  me,  as  if  I  had 
no  fault,  and  so  foolishly  praised  and  admired.  My  coming  to 
this  Western  home  was,  I  doubt  not,  one  of  the  hardest  trials  of 
his  life.  Heavy  cares  kept  us  much  apart.  How  I  thank  the 
loving  Hand  that  brought  him  here,  and  gave  to  us  and  him  that 
delightful  visit !  Somehow  I  felt  that  he  might  never  come  again. 
I  went  with  him  on  his  homeward  route  to  Columbus,  and  can 
never  forget  the  thoughts  when  parting  in  the  depot.  I  will  tell 
you  some  time  of  this.  You  see  that  I  look  forward  to  a  friend- 

*  Her  brother  John  died  three  weeks  before  the  date  of  this  letter. 


174  SAFE  FROM  ALL  EVIL. 

ship  "  between  us  as  long  as  life  shall  last."  I  wish  my  home  was 
nearer,  so  that  you  could  take  my  dear  absent  brother's  seat  at  our 
table  and  fireside,  and  see  how  warm  and  true  a  brother's  welcome 
is  yours  ! 

Our  last  brother  is  now  gone  !  How  fast  grows  the  Home- 
gathering  above  !  Let  me  take  his  place,  as  far  as  an  elder  sister 
can.  You  little  know  how  fond  and  deep  was  his  love  for  his 
"young  friend  L."  How  much  he  talked  and  wrote  about  you  ! 
It  almost  made  me  sad,  and  I  often  gently  tried  to  prepare  him 
for  changes  that  I  thought  must  come  in  time.  Not  that  this  friend- 
ship would  dim,  but  that  there  would  come  to  the  so  much  younger 
one  a  nearer  and  dearer,  a  more  engaging  tie.  But  he  could  never 
see  this.  His  childlike  trust,  and  clinging,  dependent,  almost  as  a 
woman's,  nature,  would  never  take  in  this  future  trouble,  and  it 
was  never  to  come.  And  he  is  now  shut  in  forever,  safe  from  all 
evil !  Sister  writes,  how  gentle,  quiet,  peaceful  came  the  last,  as 
an  infant's  slumber  oji  the  mother's  bosom.  Ah,  our  Saviour  is 
all  in  all,  everything  we  need,  every  moment  of  our  life.  And  can 
we  believe  that,  having  watched  and  guarded  and  guided  our  slip- 
pery feet  all  along  the  journey  of  life,  the  last  steps  are  not  most 
precious  in  His  sight,  that  He  deserts  the  soul  then?  Let  this 
calling  home  of  your  beloved  friend,  watched  by  you,  be  an  un- 
forgotten,  dying  testimony,  that  He  is  faithful  that  promised,  "I 
will  never  leave  thee,  nor  forsake  thee."  .... 

Again  I  thank  you  for  your  letter,  and  the  little  playful  note  I 
was  just  going  to  answer  when  the  sad  tidings  came.  Cannot  you 
come  before  summer?  How  much  I  want  to  see  one  whom  I  feel 
that  I  so  well  know  !  Please  accept  our  home  as  a  sister's  house 
during  your  yearly  vacations,  and  as  often  at  other  times  as  pos- 
sible. Warmest  welcome  awaits  you  from  us  all. 
Your  friend's  sister, 

JEANETTE  H.  PLATT. 


GOD  S   WAYS.  175 

[1873.  1°  July  Mrs.  Platt  went  to  Toledo,  O.,  for  a  ten  days' 
visit  to  her  son  and  other  friends  there.] 

TO  H.  P. 

[TOLEDO]  July  8,  1873. 

Sitting  in  Mrs.  W.'s  little  room,  with  the  sweet  "Psalms  for  the 
day"  open  before  me,  how  full  of  the  dear  boy  I  am  leaving,  are 
my  thoughts  (I  should  be  glad  to  meet  you  every  day  in  some  of 
the  daily  Psalter  words).  May  we  not  all  take  up  David's  words, 
"  I  waited  patiently  for  the  Lord,  and  He  inclined  unto  me  and 
heard  me.  He  brought  me  also  out  of  the  horrible  pit,  out  of  the 
mire  and  clay,  and  set  my  feet  upon  the  rock,  and  ordered  my 
goings."  "  Thou  art  my  helper  and  Redeemer,  O  my  God." 

Jesus  is,  indeed,  a  Rock.  The  blest  one  whose  feet  have 
been  set  upon  that  Rock  is  everlastingly  safe ;  sooner  or  later  there 
will  be  "put  a  new  song  in  his  mouth,  even  a  thanksgiving  unto 
our  God." 

GOD'S  WAYS. 

How  few,  who  from  their  youthful  day, 

Look  on  to  what  their  life  may  be, 
Painting  the  visions  of  the  way 

In  colors  soft  and  bright  and  free ; 
How  few,  who  to  such  paths  have  brought 
The  hopes  and  dreams  of  early  thought ! 
For  God,  through  ways  they  have  not  known, 
Will  lead  His  own. 

What  matter  what  the  path  shall  be? 

The  end  is  clear  and  bright  to  view; 
He  knows  that  we  a  strength  shall  see, 

Whate'er  the  day  shall  bring  to  do. 
We  see  the  end,  the  house  of  God, 
But  not  the  path  to  that  abode ; 
For  God,  through  ways  they  have  not  known, 
Will  lead  His  own. 

"  As  thy  days,  so  shall  thy  strength  be." 

Your  loving 

MOTHER. 


176  THE    HELPER    AND    COMFORTER. 

TOLEDO,  July,  1873. 
MY  PRECIOUS  BOY  : — 

Mrs.  W.  is  busy,  and  I  take  this  quiet  moment  to  write  good-bye. 

How  much  comfort  and  pleasure  have  come  to  mother  through 
this  little  visit, — planned  and  brought  about  through  your  kind 
thoughtfulness  and  love  !  I  leave  you  all  in  His  hands  with  the 
one  mother-prayer,  "  Father,  bless  and  keep  him,  and  make  every 
surrounding  of  his  life  only  more  and  more  to  fit  and  mould  him 
for  the  Home  beyond  !" 

Never  be  "cast  down"  through  manifold  temptations.  I  want 
you  to  mark  what  Goulburn  says  on  this  subject  (page  208),  and 
all  the  sweet  Bible  testimony ;  and  may  Jesus,  the  one  Helper  and 
Comforter,  aid  and  uphold  you  !  We  must  give  up  ourselves  to 
God  to  be  sanctified, — Jesus'  blood,  Jesus'  power.  "  By  little  and 
little" — that  is  God's  plan — He  accepts  and  loves  us  for  His  dear 
Son's  sake,  not  for  anything  in  us.  Our  "surety"  stands  for  us. 
God  is  reconciled  to  us.  He  only  calls  upon  us  to  let  Him  save 
us,  by  our  accepting  the  full  "cup  of  salvation."  There  may  be 
much,  much  that  you  do  not  now  see  clearly,  or  feel  deeply ;  but, 
darling  boy,  the  blessed  one  Teacher  "  guides  into  all  truth."  The 
feeblest,  most  ignorant,  stumbling  lamb,  is  closest  kept  beneath  the 
Good  Shepherd's  eye  and  care. 

TO  REV.  S.  C.  DAMON. 

DELAWARE,  O.,  August  12,  1873. 
MY  DEAR  FRIEND  : — 

My  last  letter  to  F ,  I  hope,  you  took  as  part  answer  to 

yours,  waiting  so  long  for  answer.  I  have  been  from  home  several 
times  this  summer,  and  really  can  write  so  little  when  visiting  or 
under  the  pressure  of  home  care.  Though  these  dear  girls  are 
helpful,  still  it  is,  "Mother,  mother,"  much  as  when  they  were  all 
wee  ones  ;  and,  as  you  know,  I  am  no  geqeral,  and  cannot  marshal 
about  duties  and  claims  as  some  women  can. 

Your  last  letter  came  to  me  in  Springfield,  Ohio,  when  trying 
to  comfort  our  dear  old  friend  and  daughters,  lately  called  to  part 
from  his  wife,  his  closest,  loving  companion  for  so  many  years.  I 
think  dear  F met  him  at  our  house.  On  Friday  I  returned,  in 


A    BUSY   MAN.  177 

time  for  our  two  August  birthdays — N 's  and  J 's.     H 

came  home,  so  we  have  been  again  "all,  all  here,"  save  the  little 
lamb  in  the  Good  Shepherd's  bosom.  Does  not  old  age  have  its 
own  peculiar  joy? — far,  far  more  good,  true,  and  beautiful  than 
youth  can  know.  You  and  dear  Mrs.  Damon  have  still  another 
joy,  I  can  only  imagine,  as  yet,  that  of  being  grandparents.  To 
look  upon  one's  life  renewed,  and  begun  again  in  children's  chil- 
dren, must  wonderfully  touch  and  stir  the  heart,  I  am  sure. 

I  cannot  tell  how  many  pictures  I  have  of  my  old  friend's  island 
home,  quite  perfect  in  every  touch  and  tint. 

F 's  last  letter  to  his  "  cousins"  pictured  the  rooms,  the  yard 

with  its  trees  and  fountains  ;  I  see  it  all,  and  you  all  only  seem  just 
in  another  street,  that  is  all.  Every  face,  too,  seems  near  to  view ; 
the  queenly  grandmamma  and  happy  grandpa,  and  every  face, 

seated  at  the  same  table,  when  S ,  H ,  and  the  baby  came 

home.  If  Mr.  Platt  and  I  could  join  you  at  your  pleasant  water- 
ing-place on  the  beach  !  How  tempting  the  spot,  from  your  de- 
scription !  I  think  you  must  be  a  general,  indeed,  to  order  all  the 
reading  and  work  you  had  in  hand,  that  sunny  afternoon,  when 
you  held  before  you  "a  sermon  finishing,  the  newspapers,  a  volume 
of  Bushnell's  Sermons,  and  one  of  George  Eliot's  novels;  also  edit- 
ing the  'Friend,'  and  watching  the  inrolling  breakers."  Surely  a 
picture  of  a  busy  man. 

No  one  beyond  his  father  and  mother  can  so  rejoice  over  your 

dear  F 's  recovery  as  I.    May  He  who  has  formed  that  beautiful 

nature  ever  watch  and  keep  him  from  harm.  I  feel,  dear  friend, 
that  the  world  has  so  much  jar  for  such  a  one.  But  "He  knows 
our  frame;"  He  has  bestowed  upon  your  boy  the  nature  that  shall 
best  accomplish  His  holy  will  and  pleasure,  to  honor  and  glorify 
Him  here  and  hereafter.  I  am  so  glad  that  he  is  now  with  you. 
What  help,  strength,  and  tone  your  climate  must  give!  But  do  be 
careful  about  his  return  to  book-work.  I  could  wish  that  he  might 
have  entire  rest  one  year  at  least.  He  is  so  very  young,  such  a 
critical  age.  The  loss  of  a  year  will  only  tell  for  good  at  thirty 
years.  If  he  could  plod  over  work — but  this  he  cannot  do.  His 
whole  soul  will  be  in  his  work,  and  whether  he  should  thus  tax  and 
test  his  strength  I  much  question.  I  wish  he  could  tramp  around 
on  some  civil  engineering  duty,  or  some  not  bookish  employment, 
12 


178  BOOKS    CRITICISED. 

nor  preaching  duty,  either,  but  just  to  wait  for  riper  age,  and  then 
turn  back  to  study  and  his  chosen  blessed  life-work. 

Through  F I  have  come  to  know  his  Amherst  friend,  Miss 

S ,  and  she  may  come  to  Delaware  this  autumn.     I  owe  him 

much,  for  I  do  so  very  much  admire  this  sweet,  strong,  young 
"Mayflower"  girl.  I  am  not  afraid  of  her,  though  she  is  a  true 
Yankee  girl,  with  ever  so  much  "faculty,"  I  dare  say.  .  . 

I  am  not  sensible  enough,  or  something,  to  like  George  Eliot's 
books — have  no  sympathy  with  any  character  she  draws.  I  have 
not  seen  one  true  woman  of  her  creation.  She  herself  is  not  a 
woman  as  God  made  and  means  and  helps  woman  to  be.  She 
cannot  write  of  women;  she  may  write  of  men,  perhaps.  We  have 
just  begun  her  "Middlemarch,"  but  I  read  it  under  protest,  and 
just  because  it  was  so  praised  to  me  by  good  judges,  and  it  was 

H 's  birthday  gift  to  N .    I  don't  mean  to  like  it!    ("There, 

that  is  silly  woman,"  you  say.)  She  has  a  work,  too,  by  Miss  Al- 
cott,  and  the  sweet  "Songs  of  Seven,"  illustrated. 

But  let  me  tell  you  of  two  little  readable  books  indeed:  "Gra- 
ham and  I,"  covering,  I  think,  in  truth  and  beauty  the  ground  of 
"Gates  Ajar;"  the  other  is  a  pretty  sparkle  (I  wish  I  could  hear 

F read  it  to  you  all,  with  S and  H )  called  "  Mrs. 

Jerningham's  Diary."  I  cannot  make  my  good  husband  believe 
his  wife  was  cast  in  the  same  mould  as  poor,  silly  Rosabel  Jerning- 
ham;  yet  I  know  she  was  in  some  respects — in  that  "to  live"  was 
so  much  to  her,  and  that  the  sky,  grass,  and  butterflies  were  a  full 
world  to  her.  I  really  wish  you  could  see  this  little  book,  though 

it  is  only  a  sparkle,  a  bit  of  spray,  or  bubble-picture.     Tell  F 

his  "uncle  and  auntie"  are  still  reading  Froude. 

I  saw  a  notice  the  other  day  of  a  book  I  want  much,  "Memo- 
rials of  a  Quiet  Life"  (English),  by  A.  J.  C.  Hare,  author  of 
"Walks  in  Rome."  It  is  said  to  be  "a  most  charming  exemplifi- 
cation of  a  true  married  life," — "the  depth  and  sweetness,  the 
perfect  union,  absence  of  selfishness,  beautifully  pictured  in  this 
record  of  real  life."  Have  you  seen  this  book,  or  "Old  Kensing- 
ton," by  Miss  Thackeray?  F will  like  all  her  pleasant  Eng- 
lish stories.  F.  is  deep  in  Prime's  "I  go  a-fishing,"  and  Howells's 
''A  Chance  Acquaintance."  Truly  we  seem  like  friends  not  so 
far  separated,  when  we  so  often  read  the  same  books  with  the  same 
taste. 


HEDGED   IN.  179 

I  smiled  over  your  question,  "  Have  you  seen  Bushnell's  Sermons 
on  the  New  Life?"  Why,  one  of  these  sermons  is  on  my  mind  and 

heart  never  to  be  forgotten.  (F has,  I  know,  my  account  of 

it;  ask  him  for  it — on  the  text,  "I  girded  thee,"  etc.,  "God's 
plan  in  every  man's  life.")  It  was  read  to  me  by  a  young  friend; 
it  is  wonderfully  full  of  help  and  comfort,  and  clear,  striking 
thoughts. 

In  a  former  letter  you  asked,  "Why  such  a  business-like  request 
for  our  Christmas  pictures?"  You  know,  I  supposed  you  were  on 
your  way  to  the  States  when  I  wrote,  and  that  Mrs.  Damon  would 
open  the  letter  and  hand  over  to  your  printer  the  Bequest.  They 
came  safely.  Who  does  not  rather  like  his  own  picture — more 
especially  when  painted  by  partial  love? 

TO  L.  E.  S. 

Thursday  morning,  September  2,  1873. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  : — 

I  am  always  glad  to  hear  from  you,  one  so  near  to  our  own  chil- 
dren now,  even  as  one  of  them 

You  wish  you  could  peep  into  our  happy  home?  Yes  it  is  a 
happy,  "happy  home."  And  will  you  always  think  of  this  home 
as  showing  one  fact — God  is  the  Father  of  the  family  that  trusts  in 
Him.  So  far  as  they  simply,  singly  cling  to  Him,  they  shall  be 
blessed  and  happy,  despite  every  earthly  surrounding  of  care, 
anxiety,  and  pain.  God  chooses  the  discipline  for  each  house- 
hold. He  has  hedged  me  and  mine  about  with  straitened  cir- 
cumstances. That  He  saw  was  necessary  and  best  for  these  chil- 
dren. The  hedge  has  been  a  loving  guard  to  keep  off  many  an 
evil.  It  has  bound  us  more  and  more  to  each  other,  and,  I  trust, 
turned  our  eyes  more  and  more  up  to  Him  through  the  riches  of 
His  grace.  Poverty  may  become  a  household  blessing,  though  no 
young  heart  can  believe  this. 

You  ask,  "What  am  I  to  do  till  next  summer?"  Almost  anything 
but  live  in  the  future.  The  past  and  present  are  enough,  and  it 
is  impossible  to  paint  domestic  happiness;  it  can  only  be  felt.  Im- 
agination's colors  are  always  borrowed — never  true.  'Tis  as  the 
subtle  perfume  of  a  flower  held  too  closely  for  any  sight.  I  like 
air  castles  and  pretty  bubbles  of  all  kinds  except  these.  How 


l8o  A    HIGHER   SCHOOL. 

strange,  you  say,  and  wonder  why  and  how  all  this  can  be  true. 
It  is  because  true  marriage  touches  our  own  higher  nature.  Its 
happiness  comes  from  an  unseen  spring  and  source — God's  pro- 
mised blessing  upon  a  true  union.  His  blessing  cannot  be  imag- 
ined, which  He  says  is  that  "blessing  that  maketh  rich."  It  is  not 
a  torrent  of  joy  that  must  flow  in  upon  the  life,  soon  as  the  tie  is 
made.  Oh,  no,  no.  It  comes  rather  like  the  unseen  dew,  or  little 
rivulets  fed  from  ten  thousand  springs  hid  quite  away  from  sight. 
It  is  the  joy,  peace,  rest,  and  hope  that  patience  gives.  Long  suf- 
fering and  self  sacrifice,  self-forgetfulness,  consideration,  all  summed 
up  in  loving  another  better  than  ourself.  Do  you  wonder  that  there 
are  but  few  very  happy  marriages?  Fallen  creatures  in  a  fallen 
world — yet  every  true  marriage  may  be  very  happy,  because  God 
has  honored,  owned,  and  blessed  this  "holy  estate." 

Being  married  is  like  going  into  a  higher  school,  of  more  diffi- 
cult lessons,  with  better  rewards  and  honors ;  but  to  be  never  more 
alone;  with  seat-mate  to  learn  out  of  the  same  book,  stand  by  us 
in  every  lesson,  divide  every  reproof,  and  share  every  smile  of  the 
Teacher,  until  both  hear  the  dismissal,  "Well  done,  good  and 
faithful;"  "the  school  is  out"  forever,  and  the  Eternal  Home  is 
gained,  to  go  out  no  more. 

"To  wait  till  next  summer  seems  so  long?"  Well,  high  school 
lessons  are  pretty  hard,  sometimes.  Can  scholars  be  too  fully  pre- 
pared ?  I  guess  not.  They  can  never  fail  under  such  a  Teacher, 
trusting  themselves  wholly  to  His  care,  guidance,  and  "very  present 
help."  Asking  Him  He  will  fit  you  and  dear  Nellie  for  each  other, 
and  make  these  long,  long  months  of  patient  waiting  no  loss  indeed, 
but  a  great  gain  every  way. 

She  read  to  me  your  thought  about  the  master-workman  of  that 
beautiful  structure  erecting  in  your  city.  What  a  faint  picture  it  is 
of  the  Mind  that  has  planned  out  each  life  !  Not  the  outline  only, 
but  the  filling  up  each  shade  and  touch  ;  all  who  shall  cross  our 
path,  each  life  that  shall  touch  ours,  and  every  surrounding  circum- 
stance marked  out. 

God  has  a  plan  in  every  man's  life,  Bushnell  shows  us  from  the 
Bible,  and  I  believe  He  has 

["L.  E.  S."  was  the  "  friend"  of  Mrs.  Plait's  daughter  N.,  and  became  Mrs. 
P.'s  son-in-law.] 


WE    GIRLS.  l8l 

•w 

TO  REV.  S.  C.  DAMON. 

DELAWARE,  O.,  March  30,  1874. 
MY  DEAR  FRIEND:  — 

I  feared  my  letter  to  F ,  written  on  the  bed,  would  make 

you  anxious  to  hear  again.  I  am  now  very  much  in  usual  health, 
and,  when  the  warm  days  give  back  the  spring  birds  and  blossoms, 
my  strength  will  all  be  here,  too,  I  hope.  What  do  you  think  of 
your  old  friend's  disregard  of  your  two  most  kind  and  considerate 
letters  waiting  for  answer  so  long  ?  It  was  so  thoughtful  in  you  to 

write  of  F 's  health  and  great  success  in  teaching.  How  glad 

and  thankful  we  all  were  !  "  Why,  then,  not  write  at  least  one 
word,  and  say  'thanks'?"  Your  two  letters  stood  before  me  in 
the  open  desk  all  winter  ;  day  after  day  I  was  surely  going  to  reply. 
Will  you  look  back  a  little  with  me  for  the  reason  (not  excuse)  of 
the  delay? 

•In  the  first  place,  you  should  remember  that  my  head  "only 
can  hold  one  idea  at  a  time,"  as  my  dear  husband  has  always  de- 
clared. N.'s  friend's  visit,  and  the  important  result  to  us,  seemed 
to  take  away,  for  a  time,  all  thought  of  other  things.  I  could  not 
see  how  I  could  give  away  our  N.  He  came  in  September.  Then 
the  neuralgia  came  to  my  head  and  face,  and  I  was  too  good-for- 
nothing  to  write.  You  know  the  past  winter  has  been  to  business 
men  a  "  panic  winter,"  and  our  children  concluded  to  help  their 
father  by  trying  Mrs.  Whitney's  "We  Girls"  in  our  house.  So 
our  good  servant  left,  and  the  girls  have  managed  household  mat- 
ters ever  since.  Of  course  the  home  circle  was  kept  as  busy  as 

bees.  H ,  F ,  and  M were  in  school,  and  J going 

on  with  her  German  and  drawing  lessons.  Every  moment  has 
been  brimful  of  care  and  hurry  ;  so  day  after  day  letter-writing  was 

crowded  out.  There  waits,  too,  a  sweet  letter  from  Miss  S , 

for  weeks  and  weeks,  for  answer.  Will  you  not  try  to  understand 
and  believe  the  heart  true  and  warm,  though  the  hand  stopped, 
and  no  word  reached  you  all  these  weeks  and  months  ?  Please  do 
not  punish  us  by  doing  as  you  have  been  done  by. 


182  SHINING   HOURS. 

TO  REV.  S.  C.  DAMON. 

DELAWARE,  O.,  December  13,  1874. 
Third  Sunday  in  Advent. 

MY  DEAR  OLD  FRIEND: — 

I  come  for  a  few  Sunday  words,  just  as  I  should  sit  by  you  and 
friend  Julia  in  your  study,  and  talk  on  this  holy  day.  Why  not? 
Are  our  fingers  more  holy  than  our  tongues?  Well,  I  should  say 
first,  forgive  my  long  silence  and  seeming  neglect.  Your  three 
letters,  so  full  of  loving  interest  in  us  all,  were  fully  appreciated. 
Never  mind  the  silence;  I  was  wearied  and  worn  out,  and  cannot 
write  letters,  even  to  dearest  friends,  when  the  heart  is  too  full  for 
words.  And  if  I  could,  I  would  not — would  not  give  one  shade  of 
care  to  my  far  distant  friends  through  the  recital  of  little  passing 
trouble  of  mine. 

I  like  the  old  Florence  dial  motto:  "I  count  the  hours  that 
shine."  But  who  can  tell  which  are  shining  hours  of  our  life?  A 
ray  from  the  Eternal  Day  will  so  change  all  earthly  reading  that 
our  highest  joys  will  be  seen  to  spring  from  the  deepest,  darkest 

sorrows  of  this  life,  no  doubt.  I  wrote  to  dear  F in  August  or 

September,  and  mentioned  to  him  my  summer  worries.  He  could 
better  understand,  for  I  think  God  gave  to  him  something  of  a 
woman's  heart,  or  at  least  the  power  to  understand  her,  not  com- 
mon to  all  men.  His  last  letter  was  so  full  of  loving  sympathy  and 

interest,  so  like  himself.  There  is  but  one  "  our  F "  in  all  the 

world. 

N wants  me  to  promise  her  a  little  visit  about  March  or 

April.  Her  father  and  J passed  last  Sunday  with  her  in  her 

new  home  in  Philadelphia,  and  declare  she  is  perfectly  happy, 
"happy  as  two  children,"  her  father  said,  and  added,  "I  would 
ask  nothing  more  for  her."  Yet  her  surroundings  are  plain  and 
simple ;  she  has  not  married  wealth  or  showy  position,  only  an 
earnest,  loving  Christian  man,  who  thinks  there  never  was  nor 

will  be  another  such  perfect  being  as  his  wife  N .  They  attend 

Dr.  Bedell's  old  church,  St.  Andrew's,  where  I  first  went  to  the 
Episcopal  Sunday-school  and  Bible-class.  When  sister  Sarah  mar- 
ried, in  1827,  she  took  me  to  Philadelphia  to  go  to  school,  and  my 
home  was  with  her  for  some  time.  Dr.  Bedell  baptized  her, 


THE   LITTLE   SESSION   ROOM.  183 

Martha,  and  brother  James;  so  you  see  old  St.  Andrew's  holds  for 
us  many  sacred  associations. 

I  wish  you  could  see  our  H now;  you  remember  the  curly- 
headed,  blue- eyed  little  girl  of  eleven  or  twelve?  She  is  now  our 
sunshine,  as  is  no  other  child.  She  was  one  of  the  nine  confirmed 
in  October  last,  as  noticed  in  the  "Standard  of  the  Cross." 

When  are  you  and  friend  Julia  coming  to  the  States  again?  Are 

we  not  to  meet  again  here?  Since  your  last  visit,  and  dear  F 's, 

your  Island  home  seems  so  near;'  I  seem  to  really  see  you  all,  ray 

thoughts  visiting  you  so  often.  Is  not  F now  quite  well?  His 

letter  spoke  of  so  much  comfort  in  his  present  work.  Please  tell 
us  all  about  him;  we  all  love  him  so  much. 

Lottie  C.,  my  old  schoolmate,  passed  two  weeks  with  us  in  Octo- 
ber. I  tried  to  get  her  to  begin  a  letter  to  you ;  I  wanted  to  send 
you  a  joint  letter.  She  looks  so  well ;  her  face  has  more  expression, 
vand  really  I  think  her  as  pretty  as  at  sixteen.  She  has  scarcely  a 
gray  thread  through  her  soft  light  hair.  (My  head  is  almost  snowy.) 
Cousin  Jane  A.  passed  May  here.  What  would  Mr.  Hodge  do 
without  her  Bible-class  and  constant  help  in  the  little  church  in  old 
Burlington?  She  says  Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer  grows  more  and  mote 
lovely  as  she  gets  nearer  and  nearer  her  home  beyond.  It  is  long 
since  you,  Martha,  and  I  used  to  meet  for  prayer  and  praise  in  that 
little  "Session  Room!"  Is  it  long? 

"  Now,  Lord,  what  wait  we  for? 

On  Thee  alone 
Our  hope  is  all  rested; 

Lord,  seal  us  Thy  own! 
Only  Thine  own  to  be, 
Only  to  live  to  Thee; 
Thine,  with  each  day  begun, 
Thine,  with  each  set  of  sun, 
Thine,  till  our  work  is  done. 

Then,  Lord,  then  bear  Thou  us 

Safe  through  the  flood ; 
In  Thy  courts  welcome  us 

Bought  with  Thy  blood ; 
Once  prisoners,  now  unbound, 
Once  lost,  and  by  Thee  found, 
Brought  home  from  sin  and  fears, 
Brought  home  from  death  and  tears, 
Home,  for  unnumbered  years." 


1 84  MY    JEWELS. 

Tell  dear  F we  often  say,  "  F was  with  us  this  time  last 

year."  We  are  in  the  midst  of  Christmas  hurries;  he  knows  what 
that  means  in  our  household.  All  my  summer  distress  and  fears 
are  gone,  and  God  has  wonderfully  delivered  us  from  evil.  My 
"jewels"  are  still  all  mine;  only  one  has  doubled,  she  says,  and 
one  the  Good  Shepherd  is  holding  in  His  bosom. 


A   TINY    BUD.  185 


XVII. 

"  The  Lord  shall  increase  you  more  and  more,  you  and  your  children." 

Trip  to  Philadelphia — First  grandchild — A  tiny  bud — Bishop  Jaggar,  his  conse- 
cration— Return  home  with  her  daughter  and  child.     March  to  June,  1875. 

[MARCH  26,  1875,  Mrs.  Platt  went  to  Philadelphia.  Her  daughter 
E.'s  first  child  was  born  on  the  24th.] 

PHILADELPHIA,  March  30,  1875. 
MY  DEAR  HOME  ONES  : — 

You  must  all  feel  that  you  are  helpers  in  this  time  of  need  by 
doing  without  mother's  letters.  Remember  this, — you  cannot 
know  how  glad  they  are,  and  how  very  thankful  I  am  to  be 
"  brought"  here  now, — that  you  were  all  well  enough  ;  and  I,  for 
this — that  all  the  sisters  are  together  once  more,  but  one,  of  the 
old  home  band,  of  the  old  fireside  ! 

I  found  E.  so  bright  and  doing  well ;  and  the  wee  one,  the  dear 
little  stranger,  waiting  for  her  grandmother's  welcome !  Such  a 
tiny,  tiny  creature  as  you  cannot  picture  at  all ;  yet  so  perfect  in 
her  miniature,  and  her  mother  so  happy,  and  her  father  so  proud, 
and  grandma,  so  thankful  her  little  life  had  been  spared  thus  far. 
The  doctor  had  no  expectation  of  her  life  at  first, — said  it  was  a 

"tiny  bud,  opened  too  soon  for  March  winds."     L says,  "I 

thought,  at  once,  I  knew  what  would  please  and  soothe  E in 

this  parting  from  this  countless  treasure, — to  have  this  little  one, 
given  to  us,  enrolled  among  the  fold  of  the  Good  Shepherd,  wel- 
comed into  church  below,  and  received  into  our  '  Father's  House' 
above,  'to  go  out  no  more.'  So  I  went  for  Dr.  Paddock  [his  min- 
ister]. '  Too  late,'  they  said,  when  he  came.  But  he  touched  the 
eyelid  and  said,  '  No  ;  hand  the  water.  What  name  ?'  '  Jeanette — 
Jeanette  Platt,'  said  Anna  B.  ('for  I  thought,'  she  said,  'How 
pleased  C.  would  be  were  he  standing  by')." 

Since  the  next  morning,  the  doctor  tells  me,  he  has  had  no 


1 86  A    COMFORT. 

anxiety  for  the  child's  life.  God  grant  it  may  be  spared  !  I  would 
like  to  have  it  given  to  dear  E.,  to  return  to  her  something  of  that 
gift  God  gave  me  in  her  mother.  But  He  knows  just  what  is  best 
for  us  all.  It  is  "  immortal  till  its  work  be  done."  One  great  good 
her  little  life  has  already  accomplished, — living  to  greet  her  grand- 
mother ;  to  fill  her  young  mother's  heart  with  such  great,  sweet, 
tender  joy;  and  all  her  future  we  leave  to  Him  whose  "lamb" 
she  is 

PHILADELPHIA,  April  13,  1875. 

So  much  has  passed  since  I  wrote,  dear  husband  !  Through  all 
I  have  been  "kept,"  though  often  trembling  and  afraid,  dis- 
couraged, and  longing  for  home.  Still,  they  all  say,  "  It  is  such 
a  mercy  and  comfort  you  are  with  us."  Dear  E.  said,  "I  never 
could  have  got  through  all  if  you  had  not  been  here."  So  you  and 
I  must  be  thankful  that  I  came ;  thankful  that,  though  feeling  so 
"good-for-nothing,"  I  can  still  be  of  some  use.  But  lam  not 
strong  enough  to  enjoy  these  changes,  'even  with  N.  and  her  baby, 
away  from  husband  and  the  home  children.  I  feel  so  alone,  like 
as  if  in  a  dream,  restless,  and  wanting  to  wake  up  and  see  you  all, 
and  find  myself  in  my  own  home,  with  familiar  surroundings,  and 
the  dear  old  faces  about  me.  Do  not  think  I  am  at  all  unhappy. 
Oh,  no,  no.  In  time,  under  God's  blessing,  the  old-time  feeling 
will  come  back,  doubtless. 

.  .  .  .  I  begin  to  hope  the  child  will  live,  though  to  me  its 
life  has  seemed  scarce  possible.  It  sleeps  and  eats  well,  and  that 
is  all  we  can  ask  for  now,  and  must  leave  it  in  its  Maker's  hands. 
She  will  live  out  all  her  mission  here. 

PHILADELPHIA,  April  21,  1875. 
MY  DEAR  HUSBAND:  — 

Never  have  we  been  kept  in  more  entire  oneness  than  through 
these  past  weeks  of  separation,  not  able  to  speak  to  one  another ! 
You  can  never  know  what  these  weeks  have  been,  so  thronged  with 
sorrow,  pain,  and  heart  loneliness,  and  longing  for  you  and  home, 
with  the  quiet  routine  of  my  own  home  life — "so  feeble,  too  totter- 
ing in  strength  for  any  such  visit."  I  have  thought  it  again  and 
again,  but  dear  sister  E.  has  so  often  said,  "It  is  such  a  great  mercy 


CHOICEST    BLESSINGS.  187 

you  are  here  !"  So  if  I  have  been  of  any  use  let  us  thank  our  Father 
for  this,  and  for  His  loving  "  Help"  so  constantly  granted  me  and 
you  in  the  trial  of  this  separation. 

I  have  begun  a  tonic  that  has  greatly  helped  me,  and,  oh,  I  am 
so  glad  to  feel  the  "lifting  up,"  and  something  of  the  old  self 
coming  back.  You  do  not  know  how  glad. 

Such  utter  weakness  and  weariness,  head  and  eye  trouble,  I  could 
only  "look  up  towards  the  Hills."  Dared  not  dwell  upon  home 
or  husband,  or  the  dear  ones  there.  But  His  mercy  was  never 
removed.  He  has  been  always  mindful  of  His  covenant  and  pro- 
mise!  Often  feeling  too  miserable  to  "cry,"  my  heart  could  only 
say  "my  soul  hangeth  upon  Thee."  But  I  have  not  been  laid  by 
at  all,  and  have  gone  from  day  to  day  through  all  that  came  before 
me;  but  never  in  all  my  life  have  I  so  needed  the  petition  in  our 
family  prayers,  "Grant  us  patience  and  minds  always  contented 
with  present  conditions,"  so  homesick  have  I  been,  or  could  have 
been!  I  believe  this  is  our  last  separation  "here."  I  have  not 
the  strength.  Now,  my  head  and  eyes  are  getting  as  usual,,  so  that 
this  morning  I  sat  down  with  Daily  Food  and  Psalter,  like  old 
times.  I  have  read  nothing.  All  this  shows,  I  hope,  why,  when 
all  the  clear  home  ones  have  so  much  cheered  and  helped  me,  no 
responses  came  to  them.  Even  postal  card  I  dare  not  write — the 
least  effort  with  my  inflamed  eye  would  bring  the  neuralgia.  Could 
enjoy  nothing,  only  the  thought  and  trust  that  He  who  had  led  and 
helped  me  here  would  hold  and  keep  me  to  the  end.  And  now— 
all  this  while,  how  in  sympathy  we  have  been !  Wordless  sym- 
pathy !  You  have  been  so  unwell,  and  suffering  so  much  under  all 
your  heavy  business  cares  and  anxieties.  And  I  taken  from  you 
just  then  and  all  alone,  "yet  not  all  alone,"  for  I  know  He  who  led 
the  wife  away  eame  Himself,  and  has  been  The  One  ever  Present 
Helper  in  your  time  of  need.  Thus  being  taught  what  He  can  be 
in  darkest  hours,  our  present  separation  may  yet  be  counted  among 
the  choicest  blessings  of  our  life.  Our  school  life  of  discipline  for 
our  future  eternal  Home.  E.  sits  by  making  a  bonnet  for  mother, 
while  dear  little  "baby  Jean"  sleeps  near  us.  On  the  i5th  she 
began  to  improve,  and  I  could  see  that  she  was  really  growing,  and 
took  heart  for  the  little  lamb.  God  would  spare  her  life  I  knew 
if  He  had  any  mission  for  her,  but  such  a  frail  thread  that  life 
seemed. 


1 88  HEARING   PORT. 

PHILADELPHIA,  May  6,  1875. 

Yours  of  Monday  came  this  morning,  and  I  hasten  a  few  words 
by  the  return  mail.  We  will  think  over  the  whole  matter,  seeking 
direction  from  the  One  "Wonderful  Counsellor,"  and  surely  we  shall 
then  be  "led"  in  "the  right  way."  ....  We  all  owe  to  her 
[E.],  to  the  utmost  of  our  power,  our  personal  loving  care  and 
attention,  this  summer  of  her  feeble  health,  and  first  experience  of 
baby  care.  You  know  it  was  the  sense  of  this  that  brought  me 
here,  and  the  help  of  your  frequent  words  when  I  was  doubting 
my  strength,  and  battling  with  my  disinclination.  "  You  will  have 
strength  given,"  you  would  say.  And  so  it  has  been.  Often  my 
heart  has  failed  utterly,  but  as  often  risen  up  again,  with  the  sense 
of  His  help  and  care.  This  separation  was  our  mutual  sacrifice  for 
the  child  who  was  our  loving  helper,  our  unwearied  sympathizer 
and  comforter,  from  her  very  earliest  years.  What  she  was  to  her 
mother  only  One  knows!  Our  time  to  repay  is  shortening  Let 
us  then  do  all  we  can,  and  God,  our  own  covenant-keeping  God, 

will  supply  our  lack  in  His  fourfold  measure E.  is 

feeble  and  needs  a  mother.  God  has  permittted  me  to  come,  and 
He  has  helped  us  both  to  endure  thus  far;  and  now  what  is  His 
further  will?  Surely  He  will  make  all  plain,  very  plain.  I  am  so 
sorry  for  your  continued  ill  health,  and  I  not  present;  but  that,  too, 
He  has  permitted,  I  cannot,  dare  not  doubt.  Too  long  has  He 
cared  for  and  planned  for  us  old  pilgrims  for  us  to  dare  to  doubt 
His  love  and  tender  care!  If  He  continue  to  us  as  a  family  His 
richest  spiritual  blessings,  let  all  things  else  go !  Yes,  all  things, 
and  the  "letting  go"  will  prove  at  least  to  be  among  the  wonderful 
"working  together  for  good"  of  our  chequered  lives.  Vessels  so 
near  in  port  care  but  little  for  smattering  winds  and  threatened 
storm  !  Dear  husband,  hold  on!  steady!  steady!  behold  the  Pilot 
near!  Nay,  He  has  His  hand  upon  the  helm!  All  will  "be  well," 
soon — very  soon — forever  well !  Don't  ask  of  Him  why  or  where- 
fore. He  cannot  err.  Love  is  the  meaning  of  all  He  does  or  per- 
mits to  come  to  His  children. 

PHILADELPHIA,  May      ,  1875. 

Sister  Mitchell  has  sent  you  to-day  Bishop  Jaggar  [his  photo- 
graph] to  look  at.  You  cannot  help  but  like  him,  and  so  will  all 
the  dear  children.  (How  I  want  to  look  into  each  home-face !) 


A    HOUSEHOLD    WELCOME.  189 

May  God  lead  dear  little  M.  and  F.,  too,  unto  serious  consideration 
of  their  duty  and  blessed  privilege  to  now — his  first  visitation — take 
upon  themselves  the  solemn  vows  we  once  promised  for  them !  His 
manner  is  quiet  and  most  winning.  I  hope  all  our  children  will 
learn  to  know  and  love  him.  .When  he  met  me,  he  referred  to  our 
letter  as  of  so  much  comfort  and,  help — such  a  pleasure,  for  we 
"promised  him  a  household  welcome!"  Just  when  he  was  hesi- 
tating over  and  sorrowing  at  the  thought  of  all  the  severed  rela- 
tions here,  in  his  prosperous  parish  work.  He  spoke  again  and 
again  of  our  letter.  Was  it  not  well  we  followed  that  "sudden 
impulse"  to  write?  What  little  "acts  of  kindness"  may  be  chosen, 
like  the  ravens  of  old,  to  carry  help  and  comfort! 

How  beautiful  was  the  Consecration  Service!  and  most  impres- 
sive. Mr.  Clark,  from  Colorado,  was  here  (sister  saw  him).  I 
inclose  for  Dr.  Ufford  the  notice  or  programme  of  the  services  at 
Holy  Trinity.  Please  give  him  my  love,  and  say  I  would  like  to 
write,  but  my  eyes  and  strength  forbid  now. 

June  zd,  Mrs.  Platt  returned  home  from  Philadelphia,  bringing 
her  daughter  E.  and  the  grandchild,  all  three  needing  rest  and  re- 
cuperation. 

The  daughter  remained  all  summer,  and  returned  the  last  of 
August  with  her  husband. 


BISHOP  JAGGAR. 


XVIII. 

"  At  evening  time  it  shall  be  light." 

Letters  to  Dr.  Damon — Jean  P.  S. — A  six  months'  birthday,  a  sixty  years'  birth- 
day, the  happiest,  gladdest,  brightest  of  her  life — A  word  picture — Taine's  Eng- 
lish literature — To  F.  W.  Damon,  Mrs.  W.  B.  M. — Last  letter  to  her  husband — 
Thirtieth  anniversary — Facing  Hfe's  sunset — To  Rev.  G.  W.  D.  November, 
1875,  to  July,  1877. 

MRS.  PLATT  took  a  lively  interest  in  Bishop  Jaggar  from  the 
time  he  was  first  spoken  of  for  the  office ;  and,  after  his  election, 
wrote  him  of  her  interest,  thanking  him  for  accepting,  and  assuring 
him  of  a  warm  welcome  to  our  rural  households  in  Ohio.  To  this 
the  Bishop  was  pleased  to  return  this  reply :  — 

DEAR  MRS.  PLATT  : 

I  have  no  words  which  will  convey  to  you  the  peculiar  pleasure 
which  your  letter  gave  me.  It  is  very  hard  to  break  up  the  ties 
which  bind  me  to  my  people  here,  and  enter  upon  a  new  and 
untried  field  of  labor. 

But  your  thoughtful  words,  and  their  promise  of  a  "household 
welcome,"  assure  me  of  a  sympathy  which  I  shall  much  need,  and 
create  in  me  already  a  "home  feeling"  towards  Delaware. 

I  shall  hope,  if  permitted  to  labor  in  your  diocese,  that  you  will 
count  me  always  your  sincere  friend. 

THOS.  A.  JAGGAR. 

PHILADELPHIA,  February  4,  1875. 

The  Bishop  made  his  first  visit  to  Delaware  on  Saturday  and 
Sunday,  October  2d  and  3d  (1875),  at  which  time  Mrs.  Platt  had 
the  pleasure  of  entertaining  him,  and  had  great  enjoyment  in  the 
visit. 


THE   BIRD    BOOK.  1 9! 

TO  REV.  S.  C.  DAMON. 

Friday  morning,  November  5,  1875. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  : — 

I  cannot  let  Mr.  Platt's  few  lines  go  to  you  with  no  word  from 
me,  thanking  you  for  your  welcome  letter  of  September  I5th.  tell- 
ing of  dear  F 's  restored  health  and  plans.  I  am  so  glad  and 

thankful.  May  all  the  pain  and  dark  of  his  life  have  been  in  the 
morning — the  dawn;  and  in  the  evening-time  may  there  be  light, 
even  the  one  "  shining  more  and  more  unto  the  perfect  day."  His 
is  a  nature  to  suffer  or  enjoy  to  an  intensity  many  cannot  know. 
You  can  never  tell  me  too  much  about  this  dear  boy.  I  do  hope 
much  to  see  him  again  here.  His  plans  are  not  fully  laid,  you  say; 
but  he  hopes  now  to  have  one  or  two  years  for  rest  before  completing 
his  studies.  How  glad  I  am.  Time  enough  for  him  to  begin  life- 
work  at  thirty.  More  and  better  work  for  his  Master  may  be  his 
for  all  these  long  years  of  waiting  preparation.  Let  him  remember 
who  waited  and  waited,  with  such  a  mission  before  Him,  for  the 
three  years  of  working. 

You  cannot  know  how  near  Honolulu  is  to  us.  Indeed,  heart- 
spirits  know  nothing  of  such  barriers  as  oceans  and  mountains. 
And  now  my  dear  husband  .has  just  lived  on  your  fair  islands.  He 
finished  the  Bird  book  only  last  evening,  and  I  can  truly  say  it  has 
been  an  evening  delight  now  for  some  weeks'  reading  to  me.  I 
kept  it,  thinking  he  might  be  interested  in  it,  and  would  like  to 
read  it  to  me,  but  I  did  not  guess  how  great  would  be  his  quiet 
pleasure  in  its  descriptions.  I  have  never  seen  him  more  interested 
in  a  book.  I  call  it  the  "Bird  Book,"  for  I  declare  the  writer 
seems  more  birdlike  than  woman.  She  sings  and  soars  in  her  de- 
scriptions, and  floats  about  among  your  island  glories  as  if  she  had 
no  body  to  tire  or  feel  a  pain.  I  cannot  at  all  understand  how  she 
could  do  all,  or  a  tenth  she  did,  unless  her  nature,  as  well  as  name, 
be  Bird.*  Mr.  P.,  last  evening,  put  down  the  book  to  open  your 
last  "Friend,"  and  said,  "Tell  him  of  my  pleasure  in  his  notice 
of  the  book."  So  many  thanks  for  the  book  and  papers  that  come 

*  The  Hawaiian  Archipelago :  or,  Six  Months  on  the  Sandwich  Islands,"  by 
Miss  Bird,  an  English  lady;  a  very  entertaining  book,  published  in  England,  and 
given  to  Mrs.  Platt  by  Mr.  Damon. 


19  a  SWEET    SIXTY. 

so  duly,  telling  us  of  your  home  !  How  much  we  all  owe  you  ! — 
and  like  to  owe  you  ! 

N and  baby  returned  to  Philadelphia  in  September,  taking 

our  H with  her  for  the  winter.  How  we  missed  our  sunny- 
hearted  girl !  But  H brought  us  another  daughter,  some  weeks 

ago,  that  we  love  very  much.  She  was  an  orphan, — a  sweet,  true- 
hearted,  Christian  girl.  They  are  as  happy  as  can  be.  They  live 
in  Toledo. 

TO  HER  GRANDDAUGHTER,  JEANETTE  P.  S. 

DELAWARE,  O.,  Leap-year  day,  1876. 
DEAREST  GRANDDAUGHTER:  — 

I  think  you  would  have  clapped  your  hands  if  you  could  have 
seen  grandmother's  birthday  table.  Your  little  picture  stood 
highest,  gracing  all  with  the  flowing  curls  and  sweetest  arch  look. 
It  is  just  a  lovely  picture,  and  1  send  herein  ever  so  many  kisses 
and  thanks  for  it.  A  six  months'  birthday  is  a  great  day ;  but 
grandma's  birthday  was  a  sixty  years'.  When  you  reach  the  "sweet 
sixteen"  this  will  seem  like  almost  living  before  the  flood.  But 
grandmother  writes  it  for  you,  that  this  old  birthday  was  the  very 
happiest,  gladdest,  brightest  birthday  of  her  life.  "  Sweet  sixty," 
as  grandfather  whispered  early  in  the  morning.  Oh,  it  is  ever  and 
ever  so  much  brighter  and  better  than  "sweet  sixteen  !" 

All  behind  lies  so  quiet  and  calm  ;  the  rough  places  passed,  all 
smooth  ;  the  dashing  waves  all  stilled  ;  the  few  little  ripples  re- 
maining sparkling  with  the  golden  light  of  eternity — the  eternal 
day ;  floodtide  steadily,  surely  bearing  on  and  on  toward  the 
"  shining  shore,"  almost  insight;  the  "  City  which  hath  founda- 
tions, whose  builder  and  maker  is  God."  There  are  so  many  birth- 
days in  our  household  year,  grandma  always  thinks  may  be  her's 
can  be  passed  without  remembering ;  but  this  birthday  was  full  of 
pleasant  little  surprises,  beginning  with  its  eve,  which  opened  a 
great  box  from  Springfield  friends.  There  were  oranges,  lemons, 
Malaga  grapes,  pine-apples,  preserved  ginger,  etc.  etc.  If  you 
only  could  have  been  in  your  "  high  chair"  and  seen  my  birthday 
dinner-table  !  Aunt  J.  made  it  so  beautiful  while  I  went  out  for  a 
walk  on  one  of  our  most  lovely  days,  with  the  birds  beginning  to 
sing,  all  about,  on  the  2£th  of  February. 


A   WORD    PICTURE.  193 

Just  before  my  plate,  on  the  table-cloth,  a  device  in  glowing 
autumn  leaves,  "60."  These  bright  leaves  and  evergreens  were 
all  about  in  vases,  etc.  The  centre  pyramid  was  oranges,  lemons, 
and  bunches  of  beautiful  grapes ;  while  all  around  my  plate 
stood  the  pictures  of  my  absent  children.  Aunt  J.  can  "  fix  things 
beautifully."  Not  a  party,  only  the  dear  old  every  day  faces.  All 
day  long  the  sitting-room  table  was  piled  up  with  grandma's  love 
tokens.  Uncle  F.  said,  "  It  seems  to  me  sixty  is  the  time  only  to 
eat."  Not  true  at  all.  Have  I  not  your  lovely  picture,  and  church 
and  parsonage,  sermons  and  essays,  dress,  etc.,  from  aunt  S. ;  and 
last,  but  almost  first,  one  grand,  big  book,  "Taine's  English  Litera- 
ture," with  its  fly-leaf  inscription,  a  word-picture  (the  prettiest  pic- 
ture grandma  ever  made),  which  I  copy  for  you  to  keep,  because 
you  may  never  see  the  painter  :  "  To  my  foster-mother.  In  memory 
of  the  winter  mornings  when,  before  the  open  fire,  and  with  cur- 
tains drawn,  we  sat  with  Chaucer,  Spenser,  Milton,  and  the  king 
of  poets — Shakespeare — himself." 

But  I  must  close. 

Your  loving 

GRANDMOTHER. 

TO  F.  W.  DAMON. 

DELAWARE,  OHIO,  Sunday  afternoon,  May  21,  1876. 

I  cannot  let  this  dear  young  brother  go  to  you,  and  not  carry 
one  word  of  loving  message,  dear  Frank.  We  are  so  glad  to  hear 
all  he  tells  of  your  health,  happiness,  and  great  success  in  your 
work  as  a  teacher.  And  now  you  propose  to  "rest  and  study  in 
Europe  some  months,  and  then  back  to  old  Andover"  for  prepara- 
tion for  your  great  life-work,  telling  the  old,  old  story  as  preacher 
of  the  Gospel.  How  glad,  how  thankful  "Aunt  Jennie"  is  for 
you,  dear  boy,  you  cannot  know.  Make  Him  your  all  in  all,  then 
health,  happiness,  "all  things  are  yours." 

And  this  is  "the  baby*  of  the  family."  What  a  grand  man  he 
is  going  to  make !  In  voice  and  face  he  must  be  your  father  all 
over  again,  as  he  was  when  a  boy  of  nineteen  years.  How  very 
like  him !  in  many  traits,  too,  and  manner,  at  times.  Tell  dear 

*  His  brother  Will,  who  made  Mrs.  Platt  a  visit  on  his  way  home  to  the  Islands 
from  Amherst  College. 

'3 


194  A    WHOLE-HEARTED    BOY. 

Mrs.  Damon  I  do  not  wonder  she  could  trust  him  away  so  far  from 
home  and  home  influences.  He  seems  to  want  to  do  right  so  sim- 
ply, as  if  good  principles  had  been,  by  Grace,  engrafted  from  ear- 
liest years ;  and  yet  with  so  free,  full,  youthful  a  nature,  gay  as  a  bird, 
sportive  as  the  spring  wind.  It  is  good  to  see  a  whole-hearted, 
out-and-out  boy,  with  such  tokens  of  what  the  man  may  be.  May 
the  Good  Shepherd  shield  him  from  all  harm!  How  many  times 
I  have  smiled  and  mused  over  his  gay  fun  with  these  children,  as 
if  they  were  very  cousins  indeed.  I  do  not  know  who  likes  him 
best;  each  teases  and  bothers  him  all  the  time,  just  as  if  they  had 
been  playmates  from  earliest  childhood.  Surely  friendships  run  on 
and  on  through  all  time  into  the  life  eternal  beyond! 

Now  are  you  planning  to  slip  by  us  as  your  father  has  done? 
Surely  not.  Will  you  want  to  go  to  Europe  without  a  peep  at 
Aunt  Jennie?  She  has  counted  her  threescore  years;  and  her  life 
has  run  on  so  swiftly,  with  such  fulness,  I  think  already  she  has 
lived  two  lives,  two  long,  full  lives.  Every  year  she  knows  there 
seems  less  and  less  strength,  though  she  is  very  well.  Stop  and 
see  us  if  you  can;  if  not  possible,  shall  we  not  meet  again  in  our 
Father's  house  ? 

A  letter  from  sister  E.,  New  York,  last  week,  says,  "I  had  such 
a  nice  visit  from  Dr.  Damon.  I  don't  think  he  is  a  day  older.  I 
told  him  he  must  see  you  before  his  return  home."  I  think  he 
will,  though  he  persists  in  saying  no,  for  want  of  time.  He  must 
make  time  for  a  little  peep  in  July. 

[Her  last  letter  to  her  husband,  written  from  Toledo  where  she  was  on  a  visit 
to  H.  Written  on  the  anniversary  of  her  marriage.] 

TOLEDO,  Nov.  9,  1876. 

This  day  is  very  much  the  same  day  as  when  we  two  went  to- 
gether to  the  old  Epiphany,  on  this  eventful  morning,  thirty  years 
ago !  But  how  much  nearer  we  are  to  each  other !  What  priceless 
blessings  God  had  in  store  for  us  that  day  1  And  through  all  the 
blessed  experiences  from  His  hand,  how  graciously,  through  His 
mercy,  has  He  revealed  Himself  to  us!  How  tenderly  He  has 
cared  for  our  poor,  helpless  children's  wayward,  straying  feet — 
blessing,  guarding,  "hedging  them  in"  from  the  Evil  One  on  every 
side !  And  above  all,  to  one  and  another,  touching  their  hearts, 


FACING  LIFE'S  SUNSET.  195 

and  drawing  them  to  choose  the  way  of  Life,  so  that  now  only  two 
of  all  our  eight  stand  without,  not  yet  having  taken  upon  themselves 
the  vows  of  His  service,  and  entered  upon  the  privileges  promised 
them  in  baptism.  Oh,  we  have  been  wonderfully  blessed!  No 
matter  if  silver  and  gold  have  been  withheld.  If  we  count  for 
anything  the  domestic  peace  and  truest  happiness  always  ours,  and 
the  unseen  spiritual  blessings  of  our  home,  then  we  two  owe  Him 
thanks  and  love  in  measure,  it  seems,  above  all  others. 

And  now,  having  been  blessed  so  far,  can  we  think  He  will  drop 
us  from  this  help  and  care?  Never,  never!  The  roughest  part  of 
our  path  is  passed.  We  have  gained  the  hill-top,  and  now  we  are 
facing  life's  sunset,  and  softer  and  smoother  will  be  the  road  to  our 
more  and  more  enfeebled  feet ;  our  hearts  growing  stronger  and 
stronger  in  the  light  of  the  eternal  day  just  beyond.  No  matter 
what  He  may  permit  to  come  as  the  test  and  trial  of  our  faith,  His 
word  stands  sure  :  "  The  path  of  the  just  is  as  the  shining  light, 
which  shineth  more  and  more  unto  the  perfect  day." 


TO  F.  W.  DAMON. 

TOLEDO,  OHIO,  November  18,  1876. 
MY  DEAR  FRANK  :  — 

Yours  from  New  York,  of  5th  of  November,  found  me  here ; 

come  to  welcome  a  little  grandson  of  five  weeks,  leaving  H 

and  M housekeepers  at  home.     It  was  beginning  to  seem  long 

not  to  hear  from  you  ;  but  I  knew  why  you  could  not  write.  Yes,  I 
have  shut  my  eyes  many,  many  times  to  see  "  rosy  pictures,"  in  which 
you  were  the  central  figure,  in  all  these  days  since  you  left  us.  How 
favored  you  are ;  how  happy  all  the  little  arrangements  of  these 
weeks.  I  like  to  look  at  them  as  arrangements  from  our  Father's 
hand.  I  believe  He  gives  to  His  children  all  that  is  good  and  beau- 
tiful ;  every  earthly  good  that  is  safe  for  them  to  have ;  and  never 
denies  or  disappoints,  except  for  their  highest  good. 

You  said  my  words  had  cheered  you ;  why  I  cannot  see  how  that 
could  be,  with  my  "  eyes  shut."  I  have  never  seen  any  need  of  Aunt 
Jennie's  words.  The  charming  Damon  home,  in  Philadelphia,  that 
welcomed  you  and  all  the  Centennial  delights  for  your  taste.  Then 


196  BEST    EARTHLY    GIFT. 

the  New  York  friends,  showing  to  you  the  "  fairest  flower  of  Chris- 
tian refinement  and  culture;"  with  the  ocean  all  bridged  over, 
through  the  full,  dear  letters  from  home.  I  have  not  thought  I  could 
say  a  word  that  there  could  be  any  need  of,  so  rosy  and  beautiful  have 
been  all  my  "eyes-shut"  thoughts  of  you.  No,  I  do  not  tremble, 
and  "fear  some  reverse  may  come,  because  this  is  not  Eden,"  as 
some  would  say.  All  your  present  seems  as  a  sweet  compensation 
from  a  Father's  hand,  according  to  His  own  word.  "  Heaviness 
may  endure  for  a  night,  but  joy  cometh  in  the  morning"  for  all 
who  put  their  trust  in  Him.  I  am  so  glad,  so  very  glad  for  all 
your  bright  present,  dear  Frank  ;  and  of  all  your  future  I  read, 
"Whoso  dwelleth  under  the  defence  of  the  Most  High  shall  abide 
under  the  shadow  of  the  Almighty."  "The  Lord  shall  preserve 
thy  going  out,  and  thy  coming  in,  from  this  time  forth  forever- 
more." 

And  now  over  the  sea  stand  Dr.  Bacon's  friendship  and  home- 
shelter,  and  dotted  all  about  the  world  are  firesides  with  loving 
hearts,  for  your  father's  sake,  waiting  your  coming ;  and  more, 
and  best  of  all,  shrined  and  hidden  it  may  be,  now,  there  is  pre- 
paring for  you  that  companionship,  God's  best  earthly  gift  to  man, 
the  little  hand  that  shall  clasp  yours,  stepping  into  your  path,  that 
you  two  may  henceforth  dwell  together  "  as  fellow-heirs  of  the 
grace  of  life."  No  matter  where  she  is,  she  may  be  the  fair  child 
who  played  with  you  at  your  father's  door ;  or  the  little  maiden 
whose  mental  development  you  watched  and  guided  in  the  school- 
room ;  no  matter  where  or  who  she  is,  is  she  not  in  His  keeping? 
Enough  for  you  to  know  Tupper's  curious  old  line  holds  a  beautiful 
truth,  though  we  smile :  "If  thou  art  to  have  a  wife,  she  is  on  the 
earth.  Pray  for  her." 

You  are  now  in  dear  old  Amherst.  If  you  can  find  leisure  for 
just  a  word  again,  before  sailing  for  Europe,  I  shall  be  glad  to  hear 
how  the  sorrowing  household  now  are.  Though  always  glad  to 
do  so,  I  do  not  expect  to  hear  from  you  often.  Through  your  dear 
father  I  may  hear  sometimes;  and  the  little  island  "Friend"  may 
tell  something  of  your  outside  life.  Our  friendship  does  not  de- 
pend upon  written  words,  we  know.  You  cannot  be  so  silent,  or 
go  so  far  that  love  and  prayer  cannot  follow  you,  dear  Frank. 


A   SPECIAL   MISSION.  197 

TO  F.  W.  DAMON  IN  EUROPE. 

DELAWARE,  OHIO,  Monday,  November  27,  1876. 
MY  DEAR  FRANK: — 

Your  letter  came  on  Saturday,  and  now  here  is  your  pilot-postal; 
how  thoughtful !  And  now  a  few  words  from  the  new  home,  and 
then  I  can  leave  you  in  His  care.  I  do  that  now.  How  very 
near  you  were  in  my  thoughts  all  yesterday,  the  dear  boy  on  the 
sea.  Our  little  Litany  petition,  how  you  seemed  in  it:  "That  it 
may  please  Thee  to  preserve  all  who  travel  by  land  or  by  water." 
How  cut  off  from  human  help  in  peril,  but  how  secure  !  Cradled 
in  His  care  was  my  only  feeling.  I  say  feeling  rather  than  thought, 
for  is  not  His  tender  compassionate  care  to  some  natures  a  sense,  a 
feeling?  This  sensible  nearness  to  God  our  Saviour  we  cannot  tell, 
can  only  feel  its  meaning;  the  relationship  of  nature-fellowship  of 
humanity  with  sympathies  Divine — a  mystery  baffling  description, 
but  an  intelligible  possession  to  all  who  are  in  Christ  Jesus.  "And 
God,  even  our  own  God,  shall  give  us  His  blessing."  What  rest! 
And,  then,  so  able  to  succor.  His  compassion,  his  experience, 
reaching  into  the  darkest  nights  of  the  soul,  so  that  He  feels  for  us 
and  knows  us  as  we  can  make  no  other  friend  feel  and  know.  Our 
lesson  yesterday  was  St.  John's  beautiful  and  precious  Good-Shep- 
herd chapter,  and  it  brought  back  your  Sunday  with  us,  and  that 
sermon  we  heard  together.  I  said,  "he  has  been  put  forth,"  but 
One  has  gone  before. 

F is  in  New  York,  so  I  taught  his  Sunday-school  class.     How 

eager  and  pleased  they  looked  when  I  mentioned  the  Island  friend 
who  had  once  taught  them,  and  his  letter  written  just  as  he  was 
about  to  sail  for  Geneva.  All  knew  just  where  Geneva  was,  and  I 
rather  promised  them  they  should  see  you  again — when  God  brought 
you  back  to  this  country.  For  will  you  not  try  to  come  to  us  for  a 
season,  think  you,  in  these  days  while  "Aunt  Jennie"  is  here?  I 
feel  sure  you  will  want  to  come.  If  it  be  true  that  "a  brother  is 
born  for  adversity,"  how  true  'tis  an  auntie  may  have  a  special 
mission.  I  think  I  have.  All  that  God  has  done  for  me,  all  that 
I  am,  make  my  vocation,  comforter  in  sickness  or  sorrow;  my 
affinities  are  there.  I  cannot  help  this.  Other  homes  full  of  joy 
and  gladness  may  open  to  you  in  all  these  days  of  joy,  "so  sunny 


198  MRS.    S1GOURNEY. 

and  bright,"  as  you  say;  but  let  me  have  the  shaded  days,  when 
you  long  most  for  the  dear  "own  home"  far  away.  (How  glad  I 
was,  how  I  thanked  Him  for  inclining  your  feet  to  me  when  sick 
and  suffering  in  the  past.)  Promise  me  this — all  I  ask. 


TO  MRS.  W.  B.  M. 

DELAWARE,  OHIO,  January  28,  1877. 

"  How  strong  and  beautiful  is  woman's  love! 
That,  taking  in  its  hand  the  joys  of  home, 
The  tenderest  melodies  of  tuneful  years, 
Yea,  and  its  own  life  also,  lays  them  all, 
Meek  and  unblenching,  on  a  mortal's  breast, 
Reserving  nought  save  that  unspoken  hope 
Which  hath  its  root  in  God." 

"  A  maiden  hand, 

Fresh  from  its  young  flower-gathering,  girding  on 
That  harness  which  the  minister  of  death 
Alone  unlooseth;  and  whose  power  doth  aid 
Or  mar  the  journey  of  the  soul  to  heaven." 

DEAR  COUSIN  "BESSIE:" — 

The  above  lines  have  been  running  through  my  thoughts  ever 
since  my  cousin  left  us  yesterday  morning.  Old-fashioned  Mrs. 
Sigourney's  sentiments  seem  just  as  sweet,  pure,  and  beautiful  as 
when,  a  young  girl  of  your  age,  I  pasted  them  in  my  old  scrap- 
book ;  though  now  my  head  is  white  with  sixty  summers! 

I  want  so  much  to  tell  you  how  glad  and  happy  I  am  for  all  that 
you  propose  to  try  to  do  for  this  dear  young  cousin  whom  God  has 
made  so  lonely,  by  calling  home  mother  and  grandmother,  the  wife 
of  his  bosom,  and  the  invalid  father.  Surely,  having  known  sorrow 
so  early  and  in  such  fulness,  he  is  prepared  to  appreciate  the  hap- 
piness before  him,  as  from  the  one  blessed  "Giver  of  every  good 
and  perfect  gift."  No  earthly  happiness  is  true  and  lasting  that 
does  not  rest  upon  the  foundation  of  God's  blessing.  My  cousin 
tells  me  you  know  this;  I  am  so  glad.  Then  you  must  both  be 
happy,  and  every  pain  or  care  that  may  be  permitted  to  cross  your 
path  will  only  more  and  more  bind  and  weld  you  to  each  other. 
Let  me  assure  you  that  the  husband  of  thirty  years  is  thirty  times 
more,  thirty  times  better  and  dearer  than  he  was  on  the  wedding- 


TO   REV.   S.   C.   D.  199 

day.  The  first  year  is  said  to  be  the  hardest  in  the  happiest  mar- 
ried life;  no  year  holds  our  happiness  secure  without  the  divine 
Helper's  aid  and  blessing.  "Willie"  has  been  nurtured  as  the 
child  of  prayer  since  his  grandmother  took  him,  a  babe,  to  her 
arms.  No  doubt  a  rich  legacy  is  his  from  the  young  Christian 
mother  so  early  called  away.  My  home  was  then  in  the  East,  I  did 
not  meet  her  at  all,  but  have  heard  much  of  her  loveliness;  and  I 
want  you  to  know  and  love  her  sisters,  for  "W.  B."  must  be  very 
near  their  heart — the  sainted  sister's  only  child. 

And  whenever  in  the  future  you  may  feel  a  longing  for  an  old 
face,  for  mother  or  grandmother,  will  you  not  say,  "  I  must  go  to 
Delaware,  to  Cousin  Jeanette  ?"  I  do  not  like  to  travel  at  all,  even 
to  visit  grandchildren.  Somehow  our  whole  household  feel  drawn 
to  you  ;  so  this  perhaps  too  sober  letter  carries  to  "  Cousin  Bessie" 
our  warmest,  loving  greeting  and  welcome. 

"Willie's"  "Cousin  Jeanette." 


TO  REV.  S.  C.  DAMON. 

DELAWARE,  O.,  February  15,  1877. 
MY  DEAR  FRIEND  : — 

Thanks  for  your  letter.     From  hands  so  busy  a  letter  counts  a 

large  gift.     After  sending  my  letter,  written  while  F was  with 

us,  I  felt  almost  sorry  that  I  did  not  wait  for  more  quiet  and  col- 
lected thought  and  feeling  about  the  dear  boy;  for  could  any  one 
born  under  New  England  skies  understand  my  words?  You  and 
Mrs.  Damon  would  smile  over  the  warm,  unstudied,  impulsive  word- 
ing, "  If  words  had  any  meaning,"  etc.  Well,  I  don't  care,  words 
are  miserable  heart-pictures.  I  could  not  tell  my  feelings ;  only 
One  knows  my  joy  in  seeing  for  myself  that  he  was  quite  well 
again,  as  He  only  knew  the  pain  of  that  visit  when  he  was  such  a 
sufferer,  and  I  had  so  many  fears.  I  knew  He  heard  prayer,  the 
parents',  the  friends'  pleading  prayer,  and  did  hope  much;  but,  to 
see  the  answer  in  all  its  fulness,  indeed  words  could  not  tell  my 
joy.  How  very  soon  the  "afterwards"  came  with  its  "peaceable 
fruits  of  righteousness  !"  No  doubt  God  meant,  through  the  dark 
hour  and  discipline  of  youth,  to  lead  his  soul  up  into  the  higher, 
better,  and  happier  earthly  life  than  he  could  have  found  without 


200  NORMAN    MACLEOD. 

that  pain.  Or,  better  still  to  say,  He  chose  that  way,  so  it  was  the 
best  and  most  blessed. 

You  ask,  do  I  often  hear  from  him?  No;  because  I  told  him 
my  love  does  not  in  the  least  depend  upon  his  frequent  letters. 
How  close  to  you  all  he  keeps ;  and  what  a  consolation  to  his 
mother  to  know  this,  now  that  "the  ocean  is  bridged  over,"  as  he 
said  when  he  received  the  first  mail  from  the  island  loved  ones. 
How  much  the  home-love  deepened  in  the  last  three  years  !  I 
liked  to  watch  him  talking  of  you  all ;  his  love  for  father  and 
mother  is  no  common  love  of  an  absent  boy ;  and  first  and  closest 
in  his  heart  are  his  island  friends. 

How  could  you  say  those  words  of  "  thanks"  and  "  obligation  ?" 
Love  brings  its  own  return,  does  it  not  ?  And  you  forget  that  pile 
of  obligation  our  monthly  "  Friend"  has  laid  up  now  for  years 
upon  years.  And  do  I  ever  say  a  word  about  thanks  and  obliga- 
tion ?  Can't  you  try  to  be  as  good  as  I  am  ? 

You  do  not  know  how  near  to  our  home  is  your  roof-tree ;  how 
often  we  talk  of  you  all,  especially  when  reading  a  book  that  we 
like,  and  want  so  much  to  share  with  you.  The  children  have  read 
to  me  lately  a  sweet  Quaker  story,  "Aftermath;  or,  a  Story  of  a 
Quiet  People."  I  wonder  if  you  have  it?  It  is  not  by  a  Quaker 
author,  but  is  about  Quakers,  leading  the  reader  into  the  calm, 
restful  atmosphere  of  a  Quaker  home,  so  true  to  life,  as  my  child- 
hood knew  the  dear  old  Quakers.  How  I  do  love  and  honor 
them  in  their  calm,  peaceful  life  !  You  would  like  this  simple 
story,  I  am  sure. 

And  now  of  evenings  my  husband  is  reading  to  me  the  "  Life  of 
Norman  Macleod."  You  have  read  it?  I  have  no  words  to  tell 
my  delight  in  this  man.  What  a  rounded  character !  How  full 
of  human  nature,  yet  controlled  by  grace !  I  get  another  lesson 
from  his  life — not  to  try  to  read  the  future  of  children  while  they 
are  being  led  through  their  first  tottering,  uncertain  steps.  Had  I 
been  his  mother,  when  he  was  in  Weimar,  I  should  have  lost  all 
heart  by  disappointment  and  fear  for  him.  Yet  we  see  how  in  all 
he  was  being  led  by  his  Master's  hand ;  and  did  not  that  very 
ordeal  fit  him — a  necessary  preparation— for  that  station  in  life 
to  which  God  had  called  him  to  work  for  him  ?  And  I  do  stand 
with  him  in  his  loyal  love  for  the  Established  Church  (you  know 
I  would).  How  strong  and  noble  was  his  adherence,  unselfish, 


THOMAS    GUTHRIE.  2OI 

and  manly!  "There  is  life  in  the  old  Church  yet,"  he  said.  I 
knew  little  before;  this  is  the  first  I  have  read  of  the  "disruptive 
controversy."  And  Norman  Macleod  held  on,  parting  from  such 
a  grand  man  as  Chalmers.  Yes,  I  should  have  been  with  him,  just 
as  I  honor  now  those  who  hold  on  to  the  dear  old  English  Church, 
above  "Reform;"  rather  without  "Reform."  Not  that  she  is 
perfect,  but  she  holds  the  truth,  and  has  pointed  and  trained  many 
sons  and  daughters  for  the  heavenly  Home ;  and  my  Quaker  taste 
loves  her  old,  old  paths,  as  she  is.  We  are  not  yet  through  the 
first  volume.  Do  you  know  of  some  book  that  can  tell  me  just  how 
these  parted  parties  worked  since  1843,  an<^  now  ^n  J877?  and 
about  the  Church  in  Scotland  now? 

Last  evening  my  husband  brought  in  the  "Autobiography  of 
Thomas  Guthrie."  I  wonder  why  I  feel  (not  think)  I  shall  not 
like  him  half  so  well  as  Norman  Macleod?  Have  only  turned  the 
leaves  yet ;  shall  be  glad  to  read  it;  but  guess  he  is  not  one  of  my 
kind  of  men.  Did  he  stand  with  Chalmers  and  the  Free  Church? 
I  ought  to  say  here  that  Norman  Macleod  has  been  brother  to  my 
heart  ever  since  years  ago  I  read  his  "Wee  Davie."  A  heart  and 
hand  that  could  give  to  a  simple  story  of  a  blacksmith's  baby-boy 
such  power  to  soothe  and  comfort,  are  surely  worthy  of  honor  and 
love. 

What  a  talk  over  my  book  ! — leaving  little  room  to  tell  how 
our  "week  of  prayer"  brought  your  island  so  close  to  us.  In  the 
Methodist  and  Presbyterian  churches  meetings  have  continued 
since.  Now  the  evangelist,  the  Rev.  Mr.  W.,  is  here  for  a  month, 
holding  meetings  daily  in  the  Presbyterian  church.  I  attend  when 
I  can.  I  hope  great  good  may  be  done.  Crowds  are  drawn  to 
listen,  and  the  old,  old  story  is  told  in  simplicity  and  earnestness. 
May  the  Holy  Spirit  touch  and  raise  every  heart  in -our  congrega- 
tions ! 

H.'s  baby,  Kenneth,  and  the  mother,  we  hope  to  have  with  us 
as  soon  as  the  weather  is  warm  enough.  They  let  grandmother 
name  him,  and  is  not  my  Scotch  name  pretty  ?  If  ever  another 
such  honor  comes  to  me  I  mean  to  count  a  Norman  in  our  house- 
hold. How  strong  are  the  associations  of  childhood.  The  Sun- 
day-school story-book,  that  dear  Martha  and  I  liked  best  of  all, 
"Anna  Ross,"  had  in  it  two  brothers,  Kenneth  and  Norman  Mur- 
ray, children  of  a  Manse ;  and  these  noble  boys  have  kept  their 


202  THE    ALPS. 

place  in  my  heart  all  these  long  years.  That  story-book,  I  think, 
did  more  for  me  in  its  impressions  for  good  than  any  sermon,  per- 
haps than  all  the  sermons  I  ever  heard.  Story-books,  prayerfully 
written,  may  be  chosen  channels  for  great  good.  Are  the  story- 
books of  this  day  prayerfully  written  ? 

I  want  to  send  you  some  autumn  leaves  that  dear  F  -  ,  with 
our  children,  gathered. 

TO  F.  W.  DAMON  IN  SWITZERLAND. 

DELAWARE,  OHIO,  March  8,  1877. 


MY  DEAR 

How  happy  I  was  to  stand  by  you  at  your  open  window,  and 
drink  in  the  mystical,  dreamlike  scenery  of  winter  in  the  Alps! 
Your  word-picture  gave  me  all,  all,  even  to  the  heart-throb  of 
unison  as  we  gazed  with  feeling,  rather  than  thought,  in  the  noon- 
tide stillness,  glad  sunshine,  and  the  air  "so  full  of  blessing."  I 
can  hear  the  birds  that  wake  you  in  the  morning,  watch  the  burst- 
ing buds  on  the  hawthorn  hedge,  "peopled  with  busy  workers," 
and  count  with  you  daily  the  fresh  flowers  opening  their  eyes  to  the 
sun.  Surely  I  am  doubly  rich  in  having  my  spring-time  come  thus 
early. 

Is  it  the  words,  the  feeling,  or  the  air,  that  makes  your  Geneva 
picture  all  a  poem,  full  of  sweetest  melody?  See  "the  Alps  in 
snowy  beauty,  the  silver  lake  mirroring  the  white-spread  sails, 
under  the  light  and  sunshine  of  the  quiet  noon;  the  roofs  of 
Geneva  gleaming  white  all  along  the  mountain  base;  and  over  the 
cathedral  towers  the  mist  hovers  like  incense,  and  the  very  air  is 
full  of  calm  and  blessing."  Now  is  not  this  a  poem  ring  and  music 
strain?  It  is  to  my  ear  and  heart,  dear  boy.  In  silence  we  stand, 
with  hearts  going  out  far,  far  beyond  and  above  things  seen  —  the 
beautiful  here,  from  our  Father's  hand,  faintest  type  and  shadow 
of  the  glories  of  that  better  country  eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear 
heard;  and  our  souls  find  rest  in  the  words  of  the  little  Collect: 
"O  God,  who  hast  prepared  for  those  who  love  Thee  such  good 
things  as  pass  man's  understanding,  pour  into  our  hearts  such  love 
towards  Thee,  that  we,  loving  Thee  above  all  things,  may  obtain 
Thy  promises,  which  exceed  all  that  we  can  desire  ;  through  Jesus 
Christ  our  Lord." 


HENRY    MARTYN.  203 

You  say  truly,  "  Christian  friendships  are  not  for  this  life  alone." 
Indeed,  so  imperfect  and  weak  are  we,  so  bungling  are  our  words, 
so  hard  is  it  to  perfectly  understand  and  read  each  other's  hearts 
and  natures,  must  we  not  know  true  friendship  is  begun  much  more 
for  there  than  here ,  when  we  shall  see  eye  to  eye,  and  face  to  face,  and 
know  each  other  even  as  we  are  known?  Why  should  we  not  often 
dwell  upon,  in  quiet  thought,  or  in  fellowship  of  words,  the  unseen 
world  that  may  lie  so  very  near  us?  In  such  moments  may  not 
the  unseen  ministry  come  very  close? — that  cloud  of  witnesses, 
clearing  Faith's  vision,  and  touching  Hope's  wing.  Our  Elder 
Brother  will  be  all  in  all.  And  shall  not  congenial  spirits  find  out 
each  other?  Friends  here  are  not  made,  but  found,  'tis  said.  I 
have  thought  dear  Martha  (the  sister  your  father  liked  best,  only 
liking  me  because  I  was  her  sister)  would  find  Henry  Martyn  first 
of  all  friends,  delighting  in  fellowship  with  one  who  had  touched 
her  young  life,  and  moulded  her  spirit,  under  God.  How  she 
loved  to  repeat  his  favorite  hymn  (152,  Prayer  Book),  "The  God 
of  Abraham  praise!"  There  was  something  in  the  sacrifice  his 
tender,  delicate  nature  endured,  in  giving  up  home  and  friends  and 
the  one  dearer  than  life,  for  Christ's  sake,  that  knit  her  to  him  in 
strongest  sympathy.  How  she  longed  and  prayed  that  she  might 
be  a  missionary,  too,  from  her  earliest  childhood  !  I  think  you  told 
me  you  had  not  seen  the  life  of  H.  Martyn.  How  I  wish  you  could 
look  over  the  large  English  edition  that  Martha  read.  "Did  I  en- 
joy it  as  much  as  she?"  No,  we  were  not  alike;  the  great  unlike- 
ness  make  us  the  one  we  were.  Naturally  I  do  not  like  to  look  up 
so  high  to  mortals.  I  would  rather  an  out-and-out  angel  at  my  side, 
or  an  out-and-out  brother  man  with  angel  spirit  (felt,  rather  than 
ever  seen  or  heard).  "Dreadful!  Aunt  Jennie?"  No,  I  don't 
mean  anything  dreadful  at  all. 

My  husband  has  just  been  reading  to  me  the  "Life  of  Norman 
Macleod,"  and  /like  him  ever  so  much  better  than  Henry  Martyn, 
and  I  cannot  help  it.  He  helps  me  more.  Not  through  saintliness, 
but  his  noble  manliness.  You  are  drawn  closer  and  closer  to  such 
a  life  through  the  magnetism  of  such  a  nature;  such  fulness  of 
sympathy,  such  broad,  grand  charities  and  true  unselfishness,  so 
very  human,  therefore  so  brother-like  ;  on  all  sides  the  touch  of 
humanity,  far  from  perfection,  capable  of  mistakes,  only  a  frail, 
mortal,  fighting  brother-soldier  of  the  church  militant  at  your  side; 


204  QUIET    PEOPLE. 

yet  strong  in  the  grace  of  God,  upheld  and  upholding  others,  and 
glorying  only  in  the  Cross  of  Christ.  You  have  time  to  read  only 
in  the  line  of  study,  I  suppose.  Some  day  you  will  enjoy  Norman 
as  I  have,  and  his  noble  loyalty  to  his  dear  old  church.  And  then- 
to  see  how  sweetly  went  out  his  earthly  life;  one  moment  here,  the 
next  there,  in  His  presence  where  there  is  fulness  of  joy  and  pleas- 
ures for  evermore. 

I  am  glad  you  are  busy  with  your  French,  German,  and  Italian. 
It  is  a  kind  Providence  indeed  that  has  led  you  on  to  all  you  have 
and  may  possess.  I  see  the  great  gain  coming  from  a  life  of  travel, 
a  rounded  education,  taking  away  all  narrowness  and  implanting 
true  brotherhood  of  feeling  and  sympathy  with  all  sorts  and  condi- 
tions of  men.  Years  ago  we  were  interested  in  "  Bruse's  Home 
Life  in  Germany,"  little  thinking  I  should  ever  have  a  boy  of  mine 
passing  his  Christmas-tide  in  that  genial,  charming  home  life,  chat- 
ting with  D'Aubigne's  wife,  and  taking  sweet  counsel  with  Pere 
Hyacinthe !  (Now  tell  me,  is  he  very  happy  with  his  wife?  a  model 
husband?  the  envy  of  every  Romish  priest?  Just  "woman's  ques- 
tions;" you  will  please  answer.  And  do  describe  his  preaching.) 
And  those  dear  Scotch  friends — did  they  know  my  Norman?  And 
the  old  church  of  his  love  and  trust,  where  stands  it  now  in  Scot- 
land ?  I  kept  with  him,  though  Chalmers  and  all  others  went  over 
into  the  "  Free  Church."  Don't  laugh  and  say,  "  You  don't  know 
anything  about  those  Presbyterian  Church  matters."  Of  course  I 
do  not ;  but  my  Quakerism  likes  best  old  quiet  "  established"  ways 
and  things.  By  the  way,  I  think  you  would  much  enjoy  a  little 
English  story-book  about  the  "Quiet  People"  of  my  childhood, 
and  the  going  over  to  the  old  English  Church.  It  is  called  "After- 
math ;  a  Story  of  a  Quiet  People;"  just  a  woman's  simple  story, 
but  there  is  a  character  in  it  as  artless,  sweat,  and  pure,  as  Shakes- 
peare's Imogen.  I  like  the  atmosphere  and  interest  of  the  book 
very  much.  May  I  hand  it  to  you  some  day  ? 

Friday,  P.  M. — What  a  talk  about  the  Scotch  minister!  but  not 
at  "the  open  window."  We  had  turned  our  backs  upon  the  fair 
Geneva  scene  and  were  talking  face  to  face,  when  you  could  only 
see  Aunt  Jennie,  faults  and  all.  Can  we  tell  how  much  we  owe  to 
the  power  of  imagination?  I  asked  myself  this  last  evening,  rest- 
ing on  the  lounge  before  the  open  fire ;  a  dull,  rainy  evening,  hus- 


I  LIKE  EARTHLY  PEOPLE.  205 

band  at  the  table  by  me  writing  to  his  Indian  friend,  the  Rev. 

Enmegahbowh,  H chatting  with  a  friend  in  the  parlor,  M 

gone  to  an  evening  meeting  at  the  Methodist  church,  F k  to  the 

laymen's  prayer-meeting  in  our  own  church,  and  F going  to 

sleep  over  his  physiology  in  the  corner.  I  closed  my  eyes  and  was 
with  you. 

Since  the  "week  of  prayer"  our  little  city  has  had  evening  ser- 
vices in  several  churches.  Then  came  an  evangelist  to  the  Presby- 
terian church  for  a  month.  Earnest,  interceding  prayer  has  gone 
up  for  His  blessing.  Is  He  not  always  more  ready  to  hear  than  we 
to  pray?  I  think  every  Christian  heart  has  felt  the  holy  influence 
of  prayer  and  His  fulfilled  promise,  "  My  doctrine  shall  drop  as 
the  rain,  my  speech  shall  distil  as  the  dew ;  as  the  small  rain  upon 
the  tender  herb,  and  as  the  shower  upon  the  grass." 

I  should  like  to  hear  more  about  the  Armenian  Church,  where 
you  find  work  for  the  blessed  Master,  all  about  what  you  do  ;  all 
about  "your  own  self,"  as  the  children  say.  You  "have  the 
Episcopal  service."  I  am  glad.  Now,  not  only  in  spirit,  but  in 
psalms,  hymns,  and  spiritual  songs,  we  cart  be  often  together  on 
the  Lord's  day.  "Don't  I  think,"  you  ask,  you  "have  a  won- 
derful father  and  mother?"  Indeed  I  do,  and  that  they  have  a 
wonderful  boy,  too.  You  see,  he  in  a  real  sense  belongs  to  me, 
and  is  there  not  always  a  glamour  over  all  our  own  possessions  ?  I 
don't  at  all  believe  he  is  an  angel,  but  I  like  him  better  than  if  he 
were  more  perfect.  (That  is  "dreadful  doctrine,"  too!)  I  like 
earthly  people  so  much.  Now  don't  be  spoiled  by  my  fine 
speeches,  but  soar  away  high  above  Aunt  Jennie's  standard. 

Tell  me  that  you  keep  quite  well ;  and  do  take  plenty  of  exercise 
daily.  Much  as  I  enjoy  a  letter  from  you,  do  not  give  one  when 
you  are  pressed  for  time;  never  in  moments  stolen  from  out-door 
exercise  or  sleep.  Dear  boy,  I  shall  love  you  all  the  same  with  no 
letters.  I'  know  how  busy  you  are,  and  all  the  home  letters  you 
have  to  write;  then  how  much  I  thank  you  for  these  words  before 
me,  and  the  Geneva  blossoms  from  your  hand  !  I  will  divide  them 

with  M ,  H ,  and  J .  She,  J ,  has  had  a  busy, 

happy  winter.  My  tears  are  hardly  dried  over  my  birthday  letter 
from  her.  What  is  more  beautiful  than  a  daughter's  love? 

Daily  in  my  prayers  I  leave  you  wholly  to  the  Elder  Brother's 
care  and  love.  Underneath  you  are  "  the  everlasting  arms." 


206  SUNBEAMS. 


TO  REV.  S.  C.  DAMON — her  last  to  him  written  six  weeks  before  her 
entrance  into  life  eternal. 

DELAWARE,  OHIO,  July  6,  1877. 
MY  DEAR  FRIEND: — 

I  wonder  if  I  can  answer  your  kind  note  of  April,  with  all  this 

chatting  in  the  hall  close  by  ?     J ,  M ,  M ,  and  baby 

Kenneth ;  J has  found  her  trunk  of  old  letters  and  composi- 
tions, and  I  hear  merry  laughter  as  Martha  reads,  under  old  dates, 
"jolly  things."  How  much,  how  much  we  owe  to  these  fresh 
young  hearts — buds  and  blossoms  that  make  fragrant  our  old  lives! 
Every  day  I  think  I  do  not  count  up  these  treasures  as  I  should, 

with  return  of  love  and  gratitude.     H is  expected  to-morrow 

for  a  week's  vacation  from  his  office ;  F and  F are  at  the 

store,  Cousin  J.  is  with  a  book  on  the  parlor  lounge  below;  so  you 
may  glance  at  your  distant  friends  this  charming  summer  afternoon. 
Daughter  H is  with  a  friend  in  Mt.  Vernon,  O.  Sister  Mit- 
chell has  been  a  month  with  her  stepson  in  Columbus,  also  giving 
me  several  weeks.  Dr.  Canfield  was  here  last  week.  So  you  see 
there  have  been  many  reunions. 

Thanks  for  sending  to  me  my  dear  sister's  letter  of  March,  1853." 
How  like  her  own  heart  is  this  letter!  How  long  it  seems  since 
she  went  away!  Oh  so  very  much  longer  than  the  time  until 
we  meet.  When  she  was  called  home,  what  heart-loneliness  was 
mine!  I  remember  saying  to  Dr.  Tyng,  "  How  can  I  get  on  with- 
out this  sister!"  I  did  not  know  what  comforters — sharers  in  joys 
and  sorrows,  sunbeams  all  about  my  path — were  growing  up  at  my 
side,  these  dear  children,  these  daughters,  so  much  more  than  sis- 
ters could  be.  And  you  and  Mrs.  Damon  are  becoming  rich  in 
daughters,  too.  His  blessing  surely  rests  upon  you  and  yours,  dear 
friend. 

As  for  F ,  does  the  sun  shine  upon  a  more  happy  fellow  ? 

Indeed  it  seems  like  dazzling  high  noon  all  the  time  with  him.  I 
rejoice  for  his  present  golden  days  with  the  most  cultured,  scientific, 
and  earnestly  religious  minds  of  our  age.  Was  there  ever' a  more 
favored  boy?  Who  can  wonder  if  he  become  enchanted  under 
some  lotus  spell?  You  must  please  thank  him  for  his  joint  letter 


A  MOTHER'S  TREASURE.  207 

to  "Aunt  Jennie"  and  the  "  cousins."  We  shall  wait  to  answer  it, 
should  we  ever  be  favored  to  see  him  again,  and  he  come  down  to 
mortals  out  of  the  enchanted  land.  You  ask  if  we  see  his  letters 
that  are  published  in  the  "  Friend?"  Indeed  we  do,  reading  them 
with  delight,  as  from  one  whom  we  dearly  love,  whose  life  we 
believe  God  will  make  noble  and  grand  with  His  blessing,  even 
that  blessing  that  "  maketh  rich  and  addeth  no  sorrow."  The 
"Friend"  with  letter  No.  5  has  just  been  opened.  You  must  tell 
me  from  time  to  time'  if  you  please,  of  his  movements.  Where  is 
he  now?  I  am  sure  these  "Friend"  letters,  and  what  you  may 
please  to  say,  is  all  we  should  expect  from  him.  My  only  one  fear 
for  him  is  that  he  may  be  overcrowded  with  work  or  study.  He 
has  made  Geneva,  Switzerland,  so  near  to  us.  I  am  trying  to  per- 
suade a  youth  just  graduated  from  the  college  here  to  go  to  that 

beautiful  city  to  complete  his  education.  His  father,  Mr.  G , 

was  once  an  admirer  of  Mrs.  Hyacinthe  he  tells  me,  and  he  is  sure 
she  would  become  his  friend. 

H and  M have  been  saying,  "I  am  going  to  write  to 

Cousin  Will  Damon,"  for  ever  so  many  months.  A  little  while 

ag°  J' said,  "Mother,  /  will  write  to  Will;". so  I  now  think 

he  will  get  a  cousin's  letter  soon.  Oh  how  glad  I  am  to  have  this 
"dear  girl  back  !  She  was  gone  one  whole  year.  But  the  tears  will 
come  at  the  thought  of  sparing  her  again  ;  yes,  though  I  see  all  the 
good,  great  and  lasting  good,  I  trust  this  year  of  separation  has 
given.  And  I  see  how  He  has  sheltered  one  so  defenceless,  guard- 
ing from  every  harm  amid  such  danger  ;  so  that  I  have  her  returned 
to  me  all  my  own,  with  no  heart-ruler  coming  between  us.  You 
may  laugh  ;  I  am  willing  to  spare  my  dear  boys,  but  want  to  always 
keep  these  daughters,  selfish  as  this  sounds.  You  do  not  know 
what  it  is  to  own  a  daughter,  read  and  hold  her  nature  in  your 
hand,  know  her  possibilities  for  misery  or  happiness;  only  a  mother 
can  understand  what  I  mean. 

I  ought  to  say,  the  "Mary  and  Kenneth"  of  my  letter  mean 
H.'s  sweet  wife  and  baby;  the  "  Cousin  Jennie"  is  a  young  Phila- 
delphia cousin.  N and  babies  are  at  Atlantic  City. 


208  SOUL    HYMNS. 


FROM  MRS.  PLATT  TO  REV.  GEORGE  DUBOIS,— a  young 
Methodist  Minister. 

DELAWARE,  July  23,  1877. 
DEAR  MR.  DUBOIS:  — 

I  am  tardy  with  my  thanks  for  your  two  books  from  the  brother- 
in-law's  library.  The  rich,  pure  soul-hymns  are  the  more  sacred, 
and  filled  with  more  power,  from  having  about  them,  here  and  there, 
the  little  imprint  of  what  God  made  them  to  another  soul, — one  now 
on  "  the  other  side,"  in  His  presence,  where  there  is  fulness  of  joy. 
So  many  of  his  marked  passages  seem  perfect.  Over  and  over 
again  I  have  read  this : — 

"  Man's  weakness,  waiting  upon  God, 

Its  end  can  never  miss; 
For  men  on  earth  no  work  can  do 
More  angel-like  than  this." 

And— 

"  111  that  He  blesses  is  our  good,  . 

An  unblest  good  is  ill ; 
And  all  is  right  that  seems  most  wrong, 
If  it  be  His  sweet  will." 

When  the  books  came  our  house  was  full, — our  summer  reunion 
of  children  and  grandchildren  giving  me  no  leisure,  so  I  let  your 
other  book  slip  at  once  into  a  "mission,"  I  hope.  Poor  Mr.  G. 
(Rev.,  I  believe)  called  to  return  a  book  of  mine  by  the  same 
author,  and  I  ventured  to  put  into  his  hand-your  book.  Was  I  very 
wrong?  ....  , 

Have  you  ever  seen  Norman  Macleod's  "Wee  Davie,"  a  tiny 
book?  When  Mrs.  T returns  it  I  want  to  send  it  to  you. 


WONDERFUL   LOVE.  2Op 

XIX. 

"I  will  surely  show  thee  kindness  for  Jonathan's  sake." 

Letters  to  a  nephew — J.  H.  C. — Heart-talks — Deep  interest  in  the  spiritual  devel- 
opment of  the  son  of  her  dearly-loved  sister.     1865  to  1874. 

The  manuscript  copies  of  these  letters  were  sent  to  her  nephew  for  review.  He 
returned  them  with  the  following  appreciative  note. 

May  27,  1881. 
MY  DEAR  UNCLE  : — 

You  have  given  me  such  pleasure-pain,  such  sweet  bitterness  in 
the  task  which  you  assigned  me !  Just  at  the  close  of  my  fourth 
year  here, — a  year  which  God  has  kindly  crowned  with  marked 
success  in  a  life  which  has  already  become  an  absorbing  passion, 
surrounded  by  those  to  whom  my  heart  goes  out  in  such  a  sincere, 
tender,  helpful,  affectionate  interest,  —  you  place  before  me  the 
loving  words  of  one  who,  perhaps,  more  than  all  others,  except 
my  own  parents,  would  have  delighted  in  this  success  in  the  path 
Which  she  herself  pointed  out  to  me  years  before  it  seemed  to  be 
among  even  the  possibilities.  What  a  night  this  has  been,  as  alone 
in  my  library,  with  the  evidence  of  my  daily  life  thrust  aside,  I 
have  opened  my  heart  to  all  the  influences  of  her  counsel,  the  sweet 
words  of  the  days  gone  by.  With  all  the  keenness  of  my  appre- 
ciation, how  far  short  I  fell  of  the  wonderful  love  for  me  of  this 
foster-mother.  How  little  did  I  realize  its  depth  and  strength  !  As 
years  have  broadened  and  deepened  my  experience,  as  I  find  my 
own  children  about  me,  I  begin  to  see  how  much  we  all  lost  when 
this  pure,  earnest,  all-loving  spirit  left  us.  I  wonder  now  that  you, 
of  whose  very  self  she  became  a  part,  and  whose  daily  life  she  ever 
cheered,  did  not  suspect,  long  before  we  lost  her,  the  presence  of 
hidden  and  angelic  wings. 

The  compiler  was  obliged  to  give  up  the  work  of  copying  per- 
sonally the  following  letters  of  Mrs.  Platt  to  a  favorite  nephew. 
He  gave  them  for  this  purpose  into  the  hands  of  a  beloved  friend 
14 


210  A   LOVING   TRIBUTE. 

of  hers.  What  he  says  of  them  is  such  a  fitting  preface,  and  such 
a  loving  tribute  to  their  author,  I  take  the  liberty  of  inserting  it 
here: — 

"As  you  read  the  letters  over  you  will  see  revealed  anew  the 
sweet  and  lovely  character  of  her  who  was  so  unspeakably  dear  to 
us.  It  seems  almost  as  if  you  could  hear  her  voice,  so  natural  to 
herself  is  all  the  written  thought  and  sentiment.  Her  letters  were 
always  what  she  herself  said  genuine  letters  should  be,  'heart- 
talks.'  It  islhis  that  gives  them  their  preciousness.  Sometimes  it 
is  almost  startling,  the  unreserve  with  which  she  speaks.  Her  brain 
and  heart  appeared  almost  as  one,  so  inseparably  were  they  blended. 
What  one  thought  the  other  felt,  and  both  were  always  visible  in 
her  letters.  Throughout  this  entire  correspondence  what  strikes 
one  the  most  forcibly  is  the  clear,  serene  faith  in  God's  providence, 
that  nothing  could  ever  darken.  Again  and  again  she  tries  to  im- 
press on  her  young  nephew  the  lesson  which  she  herself  had  learned 
long  before,  and  found  so  full  of  consolation  and  peace.  This 
illimitable  faith  in  God  was,  I  think,  the  grand  attribute  of  her 
character.  Lying  at  the  very  foundation  of  her  being,  and  per- 
vading all  her  life,  it  was  this,  perhaps,  above  all  things  else,  that 
rendered  companionship  with  her  so  elevating  and  inspiring.  To 
live  within  her  influence  was  to  dwell  in  an  atmosphere  not  alto- 
gether earthly." 


TO  HER  NEPHEW,  at  Williams  College,  Massachusetts,  where  he  had 
entered  the  fall  previous. 

DELAWARE,  March  12,  1865, 

Wednesday  before  Easter. 

MY  DEAR  J.  : — 

A  few  hurried  lines  from  sister  E.,  received  Monday,  informed 
me  of  your  intention  to  be  confirmed  on  last  Sunday  morning  in 
your  father's  church.  The  notice  came  too  late  for  me  to  be  with 
you  in  spirit;  but  I  cannot  tell  you,  dear  boy,  how  often  since 
unbidden  tears  of  joy  have  come.  My  precious  sister's  prayers 
thus  fulfilled  !  May  she  not,  nay,  must  she  not,  have  been  with 
that  "cloud  of  witnesses"  hovering  o'er?  In  her  own  sweet 
words: — 


A   MOTHERS    PRAYER.  211 

"  O  dwellers  of  the  skies  ! 
If  from  our  sight  the  mist  that  dims  it  flee, 
Angelic  forms,  bright  spirits  should  we  see, 
Heaven's  blessed  band,  in  rapture  hovering  o'er. 
Oh !  should  the  seal  that  binds  our  listening  ear 
Melt  now  away,  what  music  should  we  hear ! 
What  sounds  of  joy  from  every  golden  lyre, 
Soft  breathing  forth  the  spirit's  kindling  fire  ! 
New  songs  of  praise  to  Christ,  the  Lamb,  are  given, 
And  lofty  strains  sound  through  the  court  of  Heaven. 

Deep,  fervent  prayer, 

Breathe  forth  for  those  thus  kneeling  there ; 

For  they  have  turned  from  earth  with  solemn  vow, 

To  make  the  Lord  their  God  their  portion  now. 

Oh,  many  foes  will  seek  to  lead  astray, 

Therefore  for  these  lift  up  thy  heart  and  pray ! 

A  rugged  path  it  may  be  theirs  to  tread, 

A  bitter  cup  to  drink  of  anguish  dread ; 

A  few  short  years  may  cloud  each  youthful  brow, 

So  brightly  fair,  so  clad  in  beauty  now. 

Oh,  therefore  pray  that  to  each  soul  be  given 

Strength  to  endure  till  rest  is  gained  in  Heaven ; 

Hope  that  may  live  when  earthly  pleasures  fade, 

Peace  that  may  bless  when  foes  the  breast  invade." 

These  words  may  be  familiar,  but  I  could  only  speak  my  heart 
in  her  thoughts.  There  remains  yet  one  other  wish  unfulfilled; 
that  God  will  call  you  by  His  grace  to  preach  the  unsearchable 
riches  of  Christ,  to  stand  in  her  beloved  brother's  place,  who 

Dwells  amid  the  throng 
That  Jesus'  praises  sing. 

May  the  Lord  bless  thee  and  keep  thee,  my  sister's  precious  boy, 
and  guide  thee  into  all  His  holy  will !  A  mother's  prayer  en- 
circles you. 

Lean  on  your  Saviour's  arm,  youn  shield  and  guide ; 
Fear  not  your  spirit  to  His  care  confide;  • 

He  shall  protect  you  through  the  years  to  come, 
To  find  at  last  one  rest,  one  heaven,  one  home. 

Dear  James,  these  are  your  aunt's  loving  thoughts  for  you,  that 
would  thus  go  to  you.  I  do  not  expect  reply ;  you  can  have  but 
little  time  for  letter-writing,  and  I  have  become  a  real  old  lady  as 


212  SEVENFOLD    REGRET. 

to  correspondence,  and  very  seldom  write,  amid  my  sevenfold 
baby  cares.  But  I  expect  fully  the  time  will  come  that  Aunt  Jennie 
and  thee  will  know  and  love  each  other  well.  If  I  am  called  away, 
these  cousins,  children  of  your  mother's  nearest,  dearest  sister,  will 
be  dear  to  you,  and  you  will  ever  seek  their  highest  good  in  years 
to  come. 

From  a  letter  to  her  nephew,  written  the  next  day  after  he  had 
left  her  house,  where,  with  his  father  and  sister,  he  had  been  visit- 
ing for  a  few  days.  The  visit  was  highly  enjoyed  by  Mrs.  Platt. 
It  gave  her  great  d.elight  to  entertain  the  husband  and  children  of 
her  own  dearly-loved  sister  once  more. 

DELAWARE,  May  3,  1865. 
MY  DEAR  BOY  : — 

We  did,  indeed,  sadly  miss  you.  Sevenfold  regret  was  ex- 
pressed in  seven  different  ways  by  the  seven.  M wanted  to 

go  up  to  "M 's  bed"  soon  as  she  awoke,  and  begged  her  father 

to  say  no  more  about  such  a  bad  story,  when  he  proceeded  to  say 
you  were  all  gone  in  .the  cars.  They  will  never  forget  your 
pleasant  visit,  not  one  of  them.  I  believe  God's  blessing  will  rest 
tupon  it.  A  bright,  brave,  manly  spirit,  joined  with  an  earnest 
desire  to  do  only  right,  will  ever  hereafter  be  before  the  boys  in 
their  own  cousin  James.  God  bless  you,  dear  boy,  and  everywhere 
make  you  His  chosen  messenger  for  good  !  .  .  . 

I  was  so  glad  you  had  that  talk  with  N about  dancing,  on 

your  way  home  from  Dr.  M 's.  You  hold  just  your  mother's 

views,  and  I  believe  mine  are  the  same,  and  it  seems  strange  N 

does  not  think  and  feel  with  us.  But  you  can  hardly  take  into 
account  the  force  of  surrounding  influence  of  companions  and 
older  church  members, — not  only  our  own  people,  but  of  other 
denominations,  too.  When  your  mother  and  I  came  first  to  Dela- 
ware we  found  mothers  attending  a  "female  prayer-meeting,"  with 
most  earnest  prayers  for  their  daughters'  conversion  ;  and  the  next 
day,  perhaps,  fixing  them  for  a  dancing  party!  "Could  see  no 
more  harm  in  dancing  than  talking  away  an  evening,"  etc.  I  do 
not  know  of  one  here  who  holds  the  pure,  true,  old-fashioned 
views  of  "Annie  Sherwood."  Did  you  know  that  "Annie's" 


A    BLESSED    TREAT.  213 

school  history  and  character  was  a  living  portrait  of  your  mother? 
All  the  characters  were  drawn  from  life. 

How  very  pleasant  to  look  back  over  your  visit,  though  it  was 
so  hurried  and  confused,  of  necessity.  There  are  some  who  always 
pay  for  pleasure  ;  T  am  one.  But  a  pleasure  that  is  not  worth  pay- 
ing for,  is  to  me  scarcely  worth  having.  I  am  almost  well  again, 
and  am  only  so  glad  and  thankful  that  you  came. 

DELAWARE,  Independence  Day,  1865. 

MY  DEAR  NEPHEW  : — 

i 

The  kittens,  chickens,  Mary  in  the  kitchen,  and  I,  are  keeping 
house.  Uncle,  with  the  seven,  has  gone — a  carriage  load  of  the 
younger,  gentler  kind,  and  a  wagon-load  with  provision  baskets, 
F.  and  F.  G.,  and  H.  following — for  a  family  drive  and  picnic  in 
the  woods,  near  a  beautiful  spring  some  miles  "down  country." 
So  I  am  going  to  make  a  little  visit  to  Williamstown  this  very  pleas- 
ant summer  morning. 

I  have  taken  the  little  room  by  the  parlor  for  my  own  this  sum- 
mer, so  you  may  drop  in  at  any  time  and  see  how  much  more  quiet 
and  orderly  and  comfortable  we  seem,  now  that  our  yard  is  made 
'  comparatively  private,  sodded  and  grassed,  with  the  door  of  my 
little  room  opening  on  the  old  porch,  with  its  pleasant  shade  of 
vine  leaves,  and  clustering  bunches  of  fruit,  hanging-baskets,  etc. 
Your  visit  (in  April)  was  all  hurry-flurry,  with  no  quiet  moment; 
but  never  mind,  it  was  all,  every  moment,  full  of  enjoyment  to  me 

and  mine.  To  N especially  it  was  a  blessed  treat.  The  warm 

brotherly  interest  of  one  older,  yet  a  companion  in  age,  was  so  new 
and  pleasant]  a  fresh  spring  of  enjoyment,  I  guess  she  never  knew 
before.  I  believe  she  is  always  liked  and  greatly  respected,  for  her 
points  of  character  are  those  of  genuine  true  worth.  Hers  is  a 
peculiar  character,  certainly  like  neither  father  nor  mother.  Yet 
I  do  not  fear  for  her  happiness,  even  in  a  temporal  view.  Her 
truthfulness,  frankness,  and  want  of  secretiveness,  I  consider  all  as 
safeguards  and  warrants. of  happiness.  Such  characters  are  never 
renowned  for  wisdom  or  power;  they  may  be  imposed  upon,  but 
they  never  impose  upon  others,  and  may  pass  along  life  with  heart 
"void  of  offence  toward  God  and  man  ;"  so  with  inward  peace  and 
quiet,  and  far  less  trial  and  temptation  than  fall  to  the  wise  and 


214  GOOD    OLD    TRUTHS. 

wary.  Observation  and  experience  lead  me  to  think  the  maker  of 
such  characters  keeps  them  under  His  more  especial  care.  I  must 
look  upon  your  acquaintance  as  a  source  of  pleasure  and  supply  of 
need  given  from  His  hand 

Wednesday,  July  5th. 

I  could  not  but  look  out  with  you  on  the  calm  Sabbath  scene,  and 
hear  all  the  sweet  country  sounds,  with  good  old  "Coronation," 
that  met  your  ear  when  you  last  wrote.  My  heart  home  has  ever 
been  in  the  country.  "God  made  the  country,"  and  man  the 
busy,  smoky,  jostling  town,  sung  Cowper ;  and  so  say  I.  But  as 
we  get  on  and  on  through  life's  journey  we  more  and  more  learn 
that  the  soul's  happiness  and  holiness  depend  so  little  upon  exter- 
nals, surrounding  circumstances.  It  seems,  indeed,  that  the  most 
favorable  periods  to  the  poor  pilgrim's  view,  when  he  feels  just 
ready  to  exclaim,  "This  is  the  gate  of  heaven,"  now  I  can  rest, 
rest,  and  hold  close  communion  with  God — then  it  is  our  great 
enemy,  "as  an  angel  of  light,"  is  permitted  to  come  especially 
near,  to  mar  and  spoil  what  is  enough  like  Eden  to  be  his  especial 
hate.  It  is  a  long  way  on  the  Christian  journey  before  we  can 
fully  learn  and  believe  this,  and  know  it  is  in  the  fiery  furnace, 
lion's  den,  or  Peter's  prison  cell,  that  the  soul  feels  the  sweetest 
peace  and  closest  communion  with  God  our  Saviour.  God  places 
each  child,  doubtless,  in  just  those  circumstances  most  favorable 
for  his  growth  in  grace,  so  that  with  a  cheerful  heart  and  willing 
feet  we  have  only  to  daily  strive  to  "do  our  duty  in  that  slate  of 
life  unto  which  it  shall  please  God  to  call  us,"  as  teaches  our  in- 
valuable catechism. 

You  must  not  forget  your  mother's  prayer-book,  while  feasting 
on  the  good  old  truths  of  Congregationalism.  The  more  the  one 
is  learned  and  tried  and  proved,  the  more  strong  and  pure  and 
true  will  the  other  appear,  our  own  old  paths.  I  have  not  a  fear 
for  you,  dear  boy.  God  will  guide  and  keep  you,  and  teach  you 
all  His  holy  will.  Your  whole  future  is  safe  with  Him. 

Mrs.  Platt  had  written  to  her  nephew  asking  him  to  become 
sponsor  for  her  youngest  child.  This  letter  is  in  reply  to  his  ob- 
jecting to  assuming  that  responsibility,  because  of  the  geographical 


A   HIGH   CALLING.  215 

distance  between  the  families,  and  the  probability  that  they  would 
never  be  much  nearer. 

The  child  died  in  infancy  six  months  afterwards. 

DELAWARE,  Day  after  Christmas,  1865. 

Truly,  most  deeply,  can  I  enter  into  all  your  feelings  about  "the 
great  responsibility,"  the  "most  solemn  duty  of  the  Christian  guar- 
dianship" of  a  child.  If  another  can  so  estimate,  how  must  this 
press  upon  a  parent's  heart!  You  can  never  know,  dear  boy,  until 
you  come  to  bear  that  relation  to  a  child — the  anxious,  agonizing 
moments,  sleepless  hours,  when  the  care  of  children  can  only  be 
borne  as  it  is  carried  to  Him  who  has  said,  "casting  all  your  care 
upon  Him."  Yet,  if  only  faithful,  it  is  a  high  calling  and  most 
blessed  privilege  to  thus  receive  these  little  ones  as  from  Him, 
simply  believing  His  own  word,  "Take  this  child,  and  nurse  it  for 
me,  and  I  will  give  thee  thy  wages." 

It  is  a  loving  and  beautiful  provision  of  our  church  that  provides 
for  parents,  helpers,  in  their  children's  sponsors.  Parents  cannot 
turn  aside  from  their  care  and  duty;  God  has  laid  it  upon  them. 
Is  it  not  the  same  voice  and  leading  hand  calling  to  duty  when  a 
parent  says,  "Will  you  be  sponsor  to  my  child?"  and  a  little  lamb 
of  His  fold  is  thus  carried  to  you  for  your  prayers  and  Christian 
guardianship  so  far  as  He  enables  you  ?  I  think  so,  and  that  no 
Christian  has  the  right  to  turn  away  in  any  case.  He  can  only  do 
for  the  child  all  that  is  in  his  power.  Hindering  circumstances  are 
not  of  his  appointment.  Personal  unfitness  can  be  supplied  from 
Him  "who  strengthened  all."  If  a  child  grows  up  knowing  she 
has  her  sponsor's  prayers,  God  has  cast  a  shield  and  blessing  about 
her  path,  though  she  may  never  see  that  sponsor's  face,  nor  hear 
one  advising  word  from  his  lips.  Perhaps  our  loved  little  one  may 
be  early  called  to  the  Good  Shepherd's  sheltering  arms,  and  will 
need  no  earthly  guardianship  or  care.  Certain  it  is,  dear  James, 
she  can  have  no  other  sponsor  but  you  besides  her  father — no  other 
godfather.  So  while  I  love  and  honor  your  motives,  and  fully 
"believe  you  acted  in  refusing,  only  in  accordance  with  what 
seemed  duty,"  "the  only  course  that  seemed  right,"  I  am  not 
at  liberty  to  accept  your  refusal.  We  want  some  one  to  be  here 
when  we  are  gone.  I  was  intending  to  write  you,  when  her  father 
suddenly  decided  upon  the  day  of  leaving  for  his  Eastern  trip,  and 


21  6  OUR    NURSERY. 

the  baptism  we  did  not  wish  put  off.  He  might  never  return.  So 
in  the  hope  you  would  yield  to  our  request  her  father  stood  in  your 

place,  with  her  aunt  H and  sister  N .  And  the  baptism 

is  entered  in  the  family  Bible  as  above.  "Parents  shall  be  admitted 
as  sponsors  if  it  be  desired."  But  we  desire  you,  and  no  other, 
dear  boy,  and  so  I  will  it  shall  stand,  for  the  next  five  years  at 
least.  Then,  should  this  little  lamb  be  spared,  and  you  still 
continue  to  urge  release  from  our  wishes,  we  will  again  consider 
the  subject.  Till  then,  though  this  may  be  a  point  of  difference 
between  us,  it  is  not  going  to  do  a  bit  of  harm. 

I  was  very  naughty  not  to  tell  you  (when  I  wrote  to  ask  you) 
that  the  baby  had  already  been  baptized,  was  I?  I  don't  think 
so.  It  was  only  the  wisdom  of  the  serpent,  and  harmlessness 
of  the  dove.  If  I  had  said,  "It  is  passed,  you  would,  I  know, 
decline  at  once,  without  even  considering  the  subject.  No  one 
would — even  an  old  and  mature  Christian — seek  such  a  responsi- 
bility, or  accept  it,  unless  he  felt  God,  by  his  providence,  called 

him  to  the  duty.  N felt  even  more  averse  than  you  do,  and 

nothing  I  could  say  moved  her.  But  the  Rev.  Mr.  French,  a 
dear  family  friend,  providentially  coming,  said  a  few  words  that 
helped  her  much ;  and  she  at  last  consented,  in  hope  and  belief 
that  you  would  be  with  her  as  a  helper  by  your  prayers  and  counsel, 
in  the  years  and  duties  to  come.  Should  the  parents  be  called 
away,  I  have  fullest  confidence  this,  their  earnest,  prayerful  wish, 
will  bind  you  in  these  loving  Church  bonds  to  this  orphan  child, 
and  our  N will  not  be  alone  with  her  sacred  cares  and  duties. 

I  wish  you  could  just  peep  into  our  nursery  this  evening.  At 

our  left  father  and  F are  deep  in  backgammon.  H on 

the  right,  lost  in  "Our  Young  Folks."  H is  knitting  away, 

and  J has  just  come  in  from  putting  M to  bed,  and  says 

it  is  "not  near  bedtime,  she  has  had  so  little  time  to  read  to-day." 

F sleeps  on  the  lounge  close  by,  and  your  little  C sleeps 

sweetly  in  her  crib.  She  is  the  most  lovely,  though  not  at  all  the 
most  beautiful,  baby  we  ever  had.  I  never  had  such  comfort  in  a 
little  one. 

Monday  morning. 

I  am  always  so  glad  to  hear  from  you.  Busy  boy,  that  you  are, 
I  cannot  expect  to  hear  often ;  and  then  you  will  have  to  take  a 


MY   LIFE   WORK.  217 

poor,  short  reply,  not  an  answer  at  all.  Since  Christmas  I  have 
had  no  nurse,  and  baby  used  up  pretty  much  all  the  time,  as  there 
is  no  child  I  am  willing  to  keep  from  school.  So  I  must  just  be 
nurse  till  one  turns  up,  which,  I  trust,  will  be  soon ;  for,  indeed, 
I  do  not  love  to  sit  all  day  and  rock  babies,  and  answer  questions 
to  a  noisy  group  of  little  ones,  who  seem  to  think  "  mother" 
means  a  body  to  answer  questions,  tie  shoes,  and  settle  differences 
from  morning  till  night.  But  yet  I  do  most  heartily  (if  not  always 
most  patiently)  accept  this  as  my  life-work,  and  feel  constantly  to 
count  over  my  treasures  and  call  out,  "  Who,  who  is  richer  than 
I?"  It  seems  like  but  poor  work,  doesn't  it?  But  if  I  am  fit  for 
nothing  higher?  Well,  I  am  fully  persuaded  of  this:  God  sur- 
rounds each  child  with  just  those  circumstances  that,  with  His 
blessing,  will  most  surely  and  safely  bring  him  home  at  last. 

How  I  wish  you  were  here  to  keep  the  feast  of  Lent  with  us. 
'Tis  truly  a  precious,  consecrated  season,  this  yearly  "protracted 
meeting"  of  our  beloved  Church. 

Friday,  March  23,  1866. 

I  hardly  know  how  to  lay  down  baby;  yet,  as  Quakers  say,  am 
so  "drawn"  to  say  a  few  words  to  thee.  Just  because  in  a  letter 

received  lately  from  sister  E she  mentions,  "  J has  been 

reading  '  Goode's  Better  Covenant,'  and  likes  it  so  much ;  you 
know  how  much  his  mother  loved  it."  I  am  so  glad  you  have 
read  this  book,  so  great  a  favorite  of  your  dear  mother  and  myself. 
It  was  one  of  the  books  she  "drank  in"  —  her  own  expressive 
phrase.  You  are  almost,  if  not  the  only,  young  person  that  has 
been  drawn  toward  this  book,  as  I  have  heard,  for  so  many  years; 
though  I  have  urged  so  many,  and  offered  my  dear  old  copy  in 
vain.  I  began  to  settle  down  into  the  conviction  that  the  taste  of 
young  people  had  changed  entirely.  I  wish  you  had  my  old  books, 
with  their  pencilled  margins  by  your  dear  uncle's  hand.*  There 
were  six  years  that  he  waited,  after  he  had  to  put  by  all  hope  of 
entering  the  ministry.  I  can  see  him  now — that  feeble  frame, 
lovely  face,  in  its  clear,  childlike  expression,  so  full  of  noble, 
manly  thought,  sitting  in  quiet  thought  over  these  books  and  his 
little  paragraph-Testament.  There  is  another  book  he  liked  much, 

*  Her  brother,  James  Hulme. 


2l8  A    MISSION    OF    LOVE. 

published  about  the  same  time  with  "Goode's  Better  Covenant," 
"Russell's  Letters,  Practical  and  Consolatory;  Designed  to  Illus- 
trate the  Nature  and  Tendency  of  the  Gospel."  Its  motto,  "These 
things  we  write  unto  you,  that  your  joy  may  be  full;"  with  an  in- 
troductory essay  by  the  Rev.  H.  Boardman,  of  Philadelphia  (Pres- 
byterian, you  know). 

There,  I  have  given  most  of  the  title  page.  If  you  should  like 
ever  to  have  it,  and  it  is  not  within  reach,  let  me  loan  you  these 
dear  old  volumes.  I  am  so  glad  you  like  these  old  things,  dear, 
dear  boy  !  It  seems  as  if  in  you,  her  own  boy,  we  were  again  side 
by  side,  reading  and  feasting,  as  in  days  never  to  return.  That 
precious,  precious  sister !  But  who,  who  would  call  her  back  to 
earth  ?  No  ;  rather  let  us  all  press  on  to  join  her  at  the  marriage 
supper  of  the  Lamb. 

Darling  baby  is  very  unwell,  and  I  have  had  broken  rest  for 
many  nights,  so  cannot  be  very  bright,  though  with  unchanging 
love. 

DELAWARE,  June  10,  1866. 
Sunday  after  Trinity. 

MY  OWN  DEAR  J. 

You  are  never  altogether  out  of  sight  and  mind.  Believe  this 
when  weeks  pass,  and  no  tidings  reach  you  of  our  loving  interest. 
The  past  has  been  a  season  of  unusual  care  and  anxiety,  my  own 
and  baby's  health  so  poor;  the  little  darling  so  feeble  and  back- 
ward in  every  respect;  now  past  ten  months,  yet  seeming  in  strength 
and  intelligence  a  babe  of  three  or  four.  The  doctor  took  her  en- 
tirely from  my  care,  and  now,  weaned,  we  see  improvement;  but 
not  in  strides,  but  slow,  not  quite  imperceptible  creeps.  But  I 
think  the  conflict,  the  bitterness  of  struggle,  is  past.  I  trust  His 
peace  has  come  for  the  darling ;  and  I  have  been  brought  to  just 
leave  her  in  his  hands,  who  doeth  all  things  well.  She  has  been 
sent  to  us  on  some  mission  of  love;  I  know  this.  If  I  cannot 
wholly  read  it  here,  I  shall  know  hereafter. 

"  Sweet  to  lie  passive  in  His  hand, 
And  know  no  will  but  His." 

I  owe  you  two  or  three  letters ;  it  is  too  bad.     N 's  school 

will -close  in  a  week  or  two,  then  she  will  write.     With  school  and 


A    MISSIONARY   SPIRIT.  219 

baby  care,  dear  child,  she  has  always  a  burden  large  as  she  can 
carry.  How  I  wish  you  could  come  and  see  her  this  summer.  Do 

you  know  you  can  never  do  so  much  for  our  N in  any  other 

way?  It  would  cheer  and  comfort,  reward  and  bless  her,  in  the 
fullest  sense,  "so  it  would,"  as  children  say.  Now,  won't  you 
come?  Think  how  many,  many  years  /  went  without  seeing  my 
precious  sister's  boy.  And  now  the  sweet  intercourse  seems  to 
bring  the  mother  back.  Your  letters,  I  cannot  tell  you  how  in 
spirit  they  are  hers.  The  often  playful  manner  is  all  "Aunt 
Jennie."  So  you  see,  these  letters  in  a  very  sacred,  loving,  and 
also  in  a  very  selfish,  conceited  sense,  must  be  uncommonly  pleas- 
ant to  me. 

By  this  time  you  have  heard  of  your  father's  unexpected  visit. 
I  cannot  tell  you  how  much  I  enjoyed  it.  He  was  always  a  pleas- 
ant brother  to  me,  and  I  think  this  visit  he  was  more  as  in  days 
past.  For,  dear  boy,  the  calling  away  from  his  side  such  a  spirit 
as  your  mother's,  left  a  mark,  a  loss;  a  sad,  sad  loss  to  him  it  was. 
I  think  the  holy  influences  that  were  at  work  about  his  path  this 
winter  have  not  passed  in  vain,  but  left  upon  him  a  refreshed,  re- 
vived spirit  in  his  Master's  work.  No  doubt  you  too  are  a  blessing 
now  to  him,  a  real  helper  and  sharer  in  his  work,  unseen,  unguessed, 
but  yet  direct,  powerful  influence  for  good  from  above;  the  return 
of  the  wife's  prayers,  through  her  own  boy,  upon  the  best  beloved 
of  her  heart. 

You  like  Henry  Martyn  just  with  your  mother's  warmth.  I 
never  liked  memoirs,  as  a  general  thing ;  she  always  did.  Per- 
haps all  she  became  in  religious  character  (so  remarkable  Dr. 
Tyng  always  considered  her)  was,  humanly  speaking,  formed  by 
this  sainted  man  of  God,  Henry  Martyn.  I  think  she  honored  and 
revered  him,  as  she  did  no  other,  as  the  holiest,  most  truly  devoted 
of  men.  From  the  time  she  knew  him  (through  his  memoir)  her 
whole  heart  glowed  with  a  missionary  spirit.  To  go  to  Persia,  to 
teach  those  dark  children  of  Jesus — how  her  heart  longed  to  be 
permitted  to  do  this!  How  well,  how  well  I  remember!  She  was 
then  but  a  child  in  years.  She  gave  herself  up  to  the  Lord  for  this 
work,  and  all  her  home  work,  infant-school,  Sunday-school,  and 
Bible  class,  etc.  etc.,  afterward  was  done  with  the  same  burning, 
loving,  consecrated  missionary  spirit.  I  must  copy  for  you  some 
day  a  piece  of  poetry,  her  favorite  at  that  early  period. 


220  HONOR   THY    GRANDMOTHER. 

•  Did  you  ever  put  upon  your  shelves  "Cecil's  Remains"?  James's 
little  favorite.  I  am  so  sure,  from  the  cast  of  your  mind,  that  you 
will  like  it.  And  "  Payson's  Thoughts,"  that  was  another  of  his 

little  books 

But  I  must  get  my  long  dozy  letter  to  the  mail. 

DELAWARE,  December  23,  1866. 
Fourth  Sunday  in  Advent. 

I  had  not  a  moment  when  I  sent  off  your  little  book  to  tell  you 
why  I  sent  it.  I  do  so  love  to  feel  that  you  and  M.  are  grouped 
with  our  own  little  ones  this  blessed  gift-season,  and  always  remem- 
ber you  in  some  token — of  no  value,  only  as  Aunt  Jennie's  gift  with 
her  true  love.  A  country  village  is  no  place  for  suitable  selections. 
Miss  Proctor  has  written  some  sweet  poetic  verses,  if  she  is  a  Ro- 
manist; I  thought  you  would  think  so.  Was  tempted  to  send  a 
copy  of  the  "old-fashioned"  Poems  by  Mrs.  Hemans,  but  the  copy 
was  so  badly  bound.  Besides,  I  had  not  time  to  trace  out  in  its 
margin  all  the  pencil-marks  made  by  your  dear  mother  in  the  whole 
family  copy  which  was  hers  and  mine,  a  Christmas  gift  from  our 
brother  James  so  many,  many  years  ago.  This  was  her  favorite 
book  of  poetry;  "answering  spirits"  I  always  thought  them.  What 
readings  and  talks  we  had  over  those  little  volumes !  No  one  speaks 
of  Mrs.  Hemans  these  days.  Nevertheless,  some  day  you  shall  own 
a  copy  (if  you  have  not  one  already)  just  for  the  mother's  sake. 

This  letter  is  in  reply  to  one  from  her  nephew  telling  of  his 
Chistmas  vacation,  passed  at  his  grandmother's  house. 

DELAWARE,  February  4,  1867. 

I  am  always  so  glad  to  hear  from  you.  I  do  believe  the  older 
we  grow  the  more  we  turn  to  young  hearts.  I  am  glad  you  felt  it 

was  right  to  pass  your  vacation  in  A .     Not  until  you  number 

as  many  years  as  they,  can  you  know  how  much  comfort  and  delight 
is  the  boy  grandchild  and  grand-nephew  to  the  grandmother's  and 
old  aunty's  heart.  Next  to  a  mother^are  duty  and  honor  due  a 
grandmother.  It  is  but  a  little  way  that  they  can  be  with  us  on 
life's  path.  Mine  were  called  hence  before  my  remembrance;  and 
my  children  are  without  theirs.  I  well  remember  your  Aunt  P., 


SWEET- REST,    HOPE   AND    PEACE.  221 

though  all  the  circumstances  of  my  sorrowful  visit  to  Vermont*  are 
indistinct.  Yet  her  simple  kind  attentions,  our  many  little  chats 
together  as  I  lay  sick  upon  "the  alcove"  bed  (in  her  room,  I 
guess)  I  do  well  remember.  She  gave  me  a  tiny  Methodist  hymn- 
book,  in  which  I  wrote  her  name,  as  a  parting  gift.  To  do  all  in 
your  power  to  cheer  and  comfort  these  aged  relatives  is  just  what 
your  dear  mother  would  wish.  Consideration  was,  perhaps,  the 
beauty  of  her  character. 

You  have  indeed  been  snow-bound  all  over  New  England,  and 
everywhere  almost.  -We  have  stood  28°  below  zero  one  day,  the 
next  32°  above!  That  is  Ohio  weather;  I  don't  love  it,  though  I 
do  love  Ohio.  The  young  folks  have  had  plenty  of  sleighing,  too. 

You  seldom  get  to  Episcopal  service,  do  you?  How  sweetly 
suggestive  of  comfort  and  hope  was  the  Collect  for  yesterday !  (4th 
Sunday  after  Epiphany).  It  seemed  sent  to  comfort  me.  Will  you 
not  every  Sunday  remember  me  and  mine,  in  reading  with  me  the 
"Collect,  Epistle,  and  Gospel  for  the  day"? 

DELAWARE,  March  2, 1867. 

You  cannot  well  understand  how  I  enjoyed  your  letter ;  how  it 
comforted,  soothed,  and  refreshed  my  fainting  heart,  being  sent 
to  me  on  a  day  when  I  most  needed  its  setting  forth  of  the  precious 
old  truths — truths  the  more  and  more  precious  the  longer  tried  and 
tested.  Every  word  I  appreciate,  and  thank  you  for  with  all  my 
heart.  I  believe  your  letter  just  lifted  my  feet,  and  fixed  my  eye 
upon  the  Helper,  and  sweet  rest  and  hope  came  back,  and  there 
has  only  been  peace  ever  since.  Help  and  direction  seemed  to 
pour  in,  whether  I  looked  at  God's  Word,  or  opened  other  books, 
or  tried  to  read  the  whispering  voice  of  His  providence.  All  said, 
"  He  abideth  faithful."  "  Wherefore  doubt,  O  ye  of  little  faith?" 

Goulburn's  "Thoughts  on  Personal  Religion."  You  will  not 
at  all  like  his  views  on  the  sacraments.  But,  indeed,  this  does  not 
taint  the  book,  nor  make  it  less  wonderful  as  a  practical  help  and 
comfort  to  all  earnest  Christian  people.  Since  seventeen  years  of 
age,  when  I  read  (rather  studied)  Dr.  Tyng's  "Law  and  the 

*  This  refers  to  Mrs.  Plait's  visit  in  September,  1855,  immediately  after  the 
death  of  her  sister,  Mrs.  C. 


222  TOM    BROWN. 

Gospel,"  I  have  never  met  with  any  book  that  I  thought  ought  to 
so  benefit  me.  Everyone  may  not  like  it,  but  I  wish  you  could  see 
it,  and  read  carefully  a  few  chapters  at  least.  I  should  put  "  Devo- 
tional Reading"  to  be  read  first,  but  the  author  does  not.  N 

thinks  the  chapters  on  prayer  the  best  she  ever  read  upon  that  sub- 
ject. "Alms-giving"  and  "Temptation"  I  like  so  much,  too. 
Here  and  there  I  meet  with  a  sentence  /should  not  have  said.  I 
think  it  cannot  be  read  without  a  blessing  to  an  earnest,  prayerful 
mind. 

DELAWARE,  March  n,  1867. 
MY  OWN  DEAR : 

With  my  foot  on  the  sewing-machine,  which  I  ought  to  be  turn- 
ing this  moment,  I  am  going  to  say,  your  good- night  sleepy  kiss 

just  reached  me I  only  sawj^w,  in  "Tom  Brown  at 

Rugby."  His  genial  naturalness,  his  warm  whole-heartedness, 
his  above  all  pretence  and  shams,  his  out  and  out  boyishness  in 
his  love  of  all  out-door  things  and  doings,  in  the  way  he  walked 
into  everybody's  good  graces,  and  took  hearts  by  storm,  because 
his  own  unselfish  nature  made  him  able  to  give  everybody  his  own 
due,  and  understand  and  draw  out  all  the  good  in  those  about 
him ;  above  all,  his  genuine  truthfulness,  that  could  not  put  on  or 
deceive,  even  if  he  wanted  to  do  so ;  all  his  first  letters — the  very 
words  and  thoughts  seemed  as  if  "our  Jeems"  wrote  them.  I 
declare,  Tom  went  right  into  our  hearts,  so  much  so  that  I  could 
bear  with  a  good  deal  from  him  at  Oxford — all  the  first  volume. 
But  sad  (for  him)  to  say,  patience  died  out  in  the  second,  and  you 
disappeared,  and  I  about  gave  up  my  pet  Tom  altogether.  My 
former  letter  was  written  before  I  read  the  last  volume ;  yet  it  is 
so  well  written,  and  contains  some  excellent  sentiments.  But  some- 
how I  dare  to  question  its  usefulness.  Such  drinking  and  carousing, 
and  billiard-playing  and  gambling  !  and  Tom  giving  countenance 
far  too  much  and  too  often,  and  he  a  professedly  religious  boy, 
too.  I  was  so  sorry,  and  ashamed  of  him  so  often.  What  do  you 
think  about  "Oxford"  Tom? 

J heard  your  letter,  as  I  read  it  to  N ,  and  seized  a  pen 

and  scribbled  off  a  letter  in  a  few  minutes,  saying  she  "  would  not 
let  me  read  it  for  the  world  j"  so  I  let  her  send  it  just  as  it  is. 

I  will  remember  you  to  "Delaware  friends."     You  could  not 


THE    RIGHT    WAY.  223 

have  a  more  lovely,  simple-hearted,  cultivated  cousin,  than  our 

F S — — .     She  is  a  lovely  girl  by  nature,  and  through  grace, 

I  trust. 

J permits  me  to  put  this  in  her  "delicately-tinted"  envelope. 

Saturday  Morning. 
MY  DEAR  BOY: — 

(I  wonder  if  you  would  rather  not  I  should  use  this  address  ? 
Just  what  your  mother  would  say  comes  always  before  me  when  I 
am  thinking  of  speaking  to  you.)  I  am  so  glad  to  have  you  write 

to  N .     Our  cousins  are  very  much  as  brothers  and  sisters,  and 

it  is  something  to  have  such  an  elder  brother  come  into  the  family 
just  as  character  is  fixing  for  life. 

You  said  something  in   N 's  letter  about  my  not  thinking 

your  playful  "talk  very  like  that  which  a  C  should  write." 

Now  I  think  a  letter  is  but  a  free,  full,  outspoken  talk  from  heart 
to  heart,  as  though  seated  side  by  side.  Any  way  that  is  perfectly 
natural  is  the  only  right  way,  and  the  sure  way  to  gain  the  reader's 
heart ;  and  that  must  be  first  done  if  ever  we  hope  to  influence  for 
good, — don't  you  think  so?  When  the  influence  is  gained,  then 
advice  and  counsel  will  be  received  and  followed, — not  till  then. 
It  was  your  cheery,  pleasant,  unsolemn  manner  that  took  the  hearts 
of  all  these  cousins. 

DELAWARE,  July  29,  1867. 

.  Now  I  have  given  you  quite  a  peep  into  my  nursery, 
for  which  you  must  tell  me  all  about  yourself  and  your  poor  back. 
Does  it  pain  you  all  the  time?  Is  it  more  easy  when  you  lie  down? 
How  many  weeks  and  months  of  your  dear  mother's  life  were 
passed  on  the  sofa!  Nearly  all  her  books  and  bits  of  poetry  were 
written  on  her  portfolio  as  she  reclined.  How  her  loving  heart 
would  mourn  over  your  present  trial,  if  she  could  now  be  busy 
about  you  !  Ah !  God  has  not  permitted  you  to  know  the  sooth- 
ing, helping  comfort  of  a  mother's  love.  But  may  she  not  now 
minister  to  her  precious  boy?  I  know,  dear  child,  she  is  not 
troubled  about  you.  On  "  the  other  side"  she  sees'things  not  as  we 
look  at  them.  Every  appointment,  every  pain  from  that  Father's 
hand,  she  knows  is  sent  in  love.  "Forever  with  the  Lord," 
"knowing  as  she  is  known,"  that  tender  mother's  heart  that  was 


224  A   PURE   UNSELFISH    WOMAN. 

so  torn  with  anguish  when  she  saw  her  children  suffer  here,  now 
trusts  them  to  the  Lord.  "  He  doeth  all  things  well." 

Does  reading  increase  the  pain  in  your  back  ?  I  wish  I  knew 
what  kind  of  books  you  like.  People  differ  in  taste  for  books  as 
much  as  taste  for  food.  Surely,  in  this  world  of  books,  everybody 
can  be  suited.  A  new  book  seldom  gets  into  my  hands  before  it 
is  old.  Last  week  I  was  charmed  with  "  Memoir  of  Cousin  Alice." 
She  was  a  woman  above  women ;  yet  your  mother  was  high  above 
her.  Yes,  high  above.  "Alice  B.  Haven"  was  "our  Martha" — 
from  earliest  childhood,  in  principle  too  lofty,  too  pure,  too  unsel- 
fish for  mortals  to  appreciate.  Yes,  that  was  your  mother, — lost 
to  you  until  she  welcomes  you  to  her  heavenly  home. 

For  this  week's  reading  on  the  table  is  "Catharine,"  by  Adams 
(author  of  "Agnes  and  the  Little  Key");  you  will  not  like  that, 
but  under  it  is  the  "Diary  of  Kitty  Trevyllan."  I  suppose  you 
have  read  it?  If  not,  I  guess  you  would  like  the  simple,  sweet, 
quaint  old  English  style.  I  like  it  so  much,  even  better  than  the 
"Chronicles."  So  far  as  I  have  looked  into  it  "Kitty"  is  sweet 
and  fresh  as  a  primrose;  with  a  heart  so  unworldly,  a  real  rest  to 
look  into  in  these  days  of  artificial  goodness,  worldliness,  expedi- 
ency, that  cover  everything  and  almost  everybody 

"The  Bow  in  the  Cloud,"  by  Macduff,  is  a  little  book  so  full  of 
comfort.  Ask  your  father  to  bring  it  to  you,  and  look  it  over  for 
my  sake. 

DELAWARE,  November  10,  1867. 
2 1st  Sunday  after  Trinity. 

MY  OWN  DEAR  J. : — 

Is  it  easy  to  believe  a  call  is  thoroughly  appreciated  and 
enjoyed,  when  there  is  not  one  outward  sign  of  response?  Your 
letter  was  so  welcome,  so  son-like  in  its  loving  thoughtfulness  of 
my  missing  the  dear  elder  children,  I  simply  could  not  answer — 
have  not  been  troubled  at  my  seeming  neglect,  for  I  am  sure  every 
loving,  generous  act  has  its  reward  from  Him  who  notices  every  cup 
of  cold  water  given  in  His  name.  Doubtless  the  reward  has  re- 
turned unto  your  own  bosom.  It  may  have  been  in  the  sweet 
peace  and  "quiet  mind"  (as  the  little  Collect  for  to-day  has  it) 
"through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord,"  shed  down  upon  you  these  past 
weeks. 


LITTLE   THINGS.  225 

My  good  Mary  has  not  come  back  yet,  and  with  N away  it 

has  been  impossible  to  write  letters.  Some  days  I  am  a  little  too 
tired ;  but  still  we  have  done  wonderfully,  and  the  children  have 
learned  much  that  is  useful  .... 

When  the  hour  for  church  came  the  bed  seemed  the  place  most 
suitable,  and  I  do  not  know  how  I  got  ready  and  went — only  as 
helped  and  influenced  by  One  who  loves  and  knows  what  is  best  for 
us.  How  refreshed  I  came  home!  with  new  life,  new  strength, 
new  hope.  Truly  "they  that  wait  upon  the  Lord  shall  renew  their 
strength."  "  Who  is  made  unto  us  wisdom,  and  righteousness,  and 
sanctification,  and  redemption,"  was  the  theme.  The  Lesson  was 
Naaman's  story.  To  "go  and  wash"  seemed  such  a  little  thing; 
so  are  kneeling  in  the  house  of  prayer,  searching  the  Word,  but 
little  things;  yet  God  has  joined  unto  these  little  acts  His  richest 
blessing. 

Sunday  Evening. 

I  was  interrupted,  but  will  try  to  finish  now,  though  my  eyes 
do  not  like  lampliht.  I  did  not  mean  by  my  "weariness"  of  this 
month  that  the  soul  was  cast  down.  There  are  times,  after  many 
years  have  passed,  when  you  will  find  the  body  seems  to  triumph; 
its  needs,  wants,  weaknesses,,  overpower  the  spirit,  but 

All  unseen  the  Master  walketh 
By  the  toiling  servant's  side, 

and  as  the  day,  so  is  his  strength. 

I  have  thought  a  good  many  times  to-day,  after  the  refreshment 
of  the  sanctuary,  there  may  have  been  many  others  thus  helped 
and  blessed  through  the  house  of  prayer.  How  great  the  honor, 
how  unspeakable  the  privilege,  to  be  made  the  bearer  of  these 
messages  of  love  and  mercy ! — the  position  and  work  that  angels 
might  covet.  "Beautiful"  indeed  are  their  feet. 

It  may  be  as  well  not  to  know  your  future  work,  while  storing 
your  mind  and  preparing  for  life's  battle;  yet  my  prayer  is  that 
the  Lord  will  permit  you,  and  call  you  to  His  service. 

The  following  letter  answered  one  in  which  was  reflected  a  long, 

trying,  though  not  severe,  illness,  in  the  midst  of  many  self-assumed 

duties  outside  of  college  work,  and  in  the  very  busiest  part  of  senior 

year;  in  every  respect  the  most  intense  of  her  nephew's  academic 

15 


226  SAFELY    KEPT. 

life.  Impatient  at  what  seemed  to  him  undue  dependence  on  his 
father's  care — than  which  none  could  be  more  loving  and  gen- 
erous— he  had  already  determined  to  sever  his  connection  with 
home  as  soon  as  he  should  be  graduated  ;  and,  in  a  half-morbid 
way,  could  see  nothing  but  years  of  drudgery  and  toil  for  mere 
existence.  This  was  the  feeling  which  prompted  the  expression 
about  another  visit  to  Philadelphia,  to  which  reference  is  here 
made,  and  which  colored  the  entire  letter. 

The  portion  about  "early  engagements"  sprang  out  of  some 
merry  banter  in  a  previous  letter  of  Mrs.  Platt's,  in  which  she 
played  upon  the  expression  "heart  disease,"  which  her  nephew 
had  written  her  he  sometimes  feared. 

DELAWARE,  January  21,  1868. 
MY  OWN  DEAR  J : — 

If  I  thought  you  were  all  quite  over  the  cold,  and  the  strong 
well  senior  was  up,  I  would  begin  my  letter  one  way,  and  not  as  I 
am  going  to — just  as  I  felt  when  I  laid  down  your  sheet  of  the  i2th. 
(If  there  is  no  kind  of  chime  in  your  heart,  just  lay  it  away  until 
the  next  cold  comes.) 

"  Poor,  motherless  boy!"  I  said;  and  before  me  seemed  those 
yearning,  tender,  loving,  trusting  eyes;  that  only  belonged  to  your 
mother.  What  the  writer  of  that  letter  would  have  been  to  her ! — 
the  answering  heart-beat  that  would  have  gone  out ;  the  wrestling 
prayer  for  God's  best  blessing  upon  him;  for  His  guardianship 
over  his  health,  outwardly  in  his  body,  and  inwardly  in  his  soul ; 
that  He  would  keep  his  feet,  so  that  every  moment  of  his  life,  which 
had  been  given  through  her,  and  counted  and  loved  as  part  of  her 
very  self,  should  be  laid  at  the  Redeemer's  feet, — used  only  for 
His  glory. 

Nearly  "through  college."  Oh,  what  would  not  that  mother 
be  to  you  now,  dear  boy!  We  would  not  call  her  back, — we  need 
not.  More  than  mother's  love,  more  than  mother's  sympathy, 
more  than  mother's  power,  encircles  you,  "about  your  path,  about 
your  bed,"  keeping  you  in  all  your  ways.  He  took  her  in  love  from 
you;  for  are  not  all  His  dispensations  only  love  towards  His  chil- 
dren ?  And  He  Himself,  therefore,  will  supply  your  every  want. 

Now  you  stop  and  wonder,  "What  did  I  write,  that  brought  all 
this  tide  of  feeling  over  Aunt  Jennie?"  Nothing  at  all;  it  just 


EARLY    ENGAGEMENTS.  227 

came.  But  you  are  your  mother's  own  child,  and,  write  as  you 
will,  your  letters  always  say,  "Martha,  Martha,"  to  me. 

You  speak  of  your  "glowing  plans"  for  vacation — five  weeks. 
I  was  going  to  say,  when  fiftieth  Christmas  holidays  are  reached, 
how  few  glowing  plans  would  come  through  the  tide  of  past  ex- 
periences that  must  come  over  them.  But,  then,  I  don't  know  that 
the  glowing  principle  ever  does  get  old,  does  it?  Never  mind 
about  the  Western  cousins.  What  is  denied  one  vacation  may  be 
fully  granted  at  another  time.  This  Christmas  was  not  the  time, 
you  see.  So  I  think  we  should  try  to  take  all,  little  and  great, 
"  crossed  purposes,"  in  the  very  childlike  spirit  so  often  and  much 
enjoined  for  our  feeble  imitation ;  as  the  baby,  with  one  look  up 
to  his  mother's  face,  forgets  the  toy  forbidden,  and  takes  up  an- 
other to  his  heart's  content. 

I  am  so  glad  N is  with  M ,  and  in  good,  kind  care. 

How  shall  I  repay  the  ten  thousand  kindnesses  shown  her  during 

this  visit?  "Critical"  Miss  H has  written  me  such  pleasant 

words  about  her;  "everywhere  leaving  pleasant  impressions," 

John  says,  and  Dr.  B ,  etc.  How  does  this  make  her  mother 

feel?  Humble,  grateful  to  the  loving  Hand  that  has  so  marked 
this  dear  child's  unselfish  devotion,  and  weary  tasks  for  her  mother 
and  little  brothers  and  sisters,  and  kept  it  from  doing  her  any  harm, 
and  now  gives  to  her  this  full  reward,  in  which  her  mother,  too,  so 
largely  shares.  She  is  now  just  at  the  age  when,  perhaps,  young 
life  is  fullest.  I  rejoice  for  these  few  months  untouched  by  care. 

Why  do  you  say,  "  It  may  be  years  before  I  shall  be  ever  able 
to  make  even  such  a  hasty  trip  to  Philadelphia  again?"  I  have 
no  faith  in  "  Sheldon  water"  for  a  Buckeye  boy.  What  he  wants 
is  the  old  .Delaware  spring,  with  powerful  curative  properties  as 
Virginia's  White  Sulphur, — from  which  his  auntie  daily  carried  the 
little  "sulphur  stones"  to  bathe  his  baby  face. 

And  now  about  "early  engagements."  Who  said  Aunt  Jennie 
doesn't  like  them  ?  I  do  not  like  long  engagements  ;  I  know  they 
seldom  have  a  happy  end.  I  do  not  want  any  child  of  mine,  or 
you,  dear  J.,  to  try  it.  I  will  not  trust  myself  to  write  upon  this 
theme, —  pages  would  have  no  end.  But  I  am  alone  by  my  little 
open  fire,  and  I  suppose  you  have  run  away  from  your  books 
(senior  studies  never  stop,  I  believe),  and  close  by  my  chair  are 
trying  to  gravely  listen  to  what  I  say  upon  this  "  merry  theme." 


228  PRAYERS   ANSWERED. 

Ah,  dear  boy,  is  this  a  "  merry  theme  ?"  He  who  has  so  wonder- 
fully strung  and  tuned  these  hearts  of  ours  only  knows  their  deep, 
deep  needs.  With  my  fingers  in  your  hair  I  would  lovingly  say  to 
you,  dear  boy,  marry  young.  Never  until  then  will  your  one  great 
early  loss  be  soothed  and  supplied,  and  your  heart-longings  be 
stilled.  It  is  God's  gift,  sweetest,  dearest,  most 'precious  gift,  this 
human  love.  Yes,  with  God's  blessing,  with  His  favor  and  friend- 
ship and  love,  sweetly  intermingled  with  life's  duties,  lessening 
every  burden,  hallowing  every  trial,  diminishing  every  cross,  every 
heart  must  testify,  "holy,"  blessed  "  estate  of  matrimony." 

Some  natures  seem  as  if  they  can  afford  to  live  alone  (not  because 
they  have  so  much  heart);  some  seem  to  have  been  called  to  live 
alone,  and  to  such  He  can  make  good  even  that  which  he  pro- 
nounced was  not  good.  I  will  tell  you  just  what  I  would  do,  if  I 
were  you ;  I  would  settle  it  that  I  was  to  be  married,  and  leave  the 
whole  matter  with  God.  How?  Do  you  ever  see  a  book  that  has 
decidedly  had  its  day,  "  Tupper's  Proverbial  Philosophy?"  Well, 
somewhere  in  his  own  odd  way  he  says  this  thought  (not  his  words, 
I  guess):  "  If  I  am  to  have  a  wife  she  is  now  upon  the  earth;  I 
will  pray  for  her."  I  know  of  a  young  maiden  who  did  thus  pray 
for  the  one  who  was  to  be  her  companion,  when  there  was  no  desire, 
thought,  or  imagination  who  that  one  was  to  be.  To-day  she  looks 
back  over  many,  many  chequered  years  of  "  His  ways  not  as  our 
ways,"  and  believes  the  true  deep  happiness  of  her  married  life  is 
the  present  answer  to  those  girlish  prayers. 

The  young  Christian  should  leave  all  the  future  with  his  God. 
"  Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread"  means  the  soul's  needs  as  well 
as  the  body's.  He  arranges  all  the  events  of  our  pilgrimage  for  us. 
Who  shall  be  the  closest,  nearest  companion,  the  helper.or  the  hin- 
derer,  can  that  escape  His  care?  We  go  on,  in  our  daily  work  for 
Him,  in  "that  station  of  life  to  which  He  has  called  us;"  and  when 
His  time,  His  way,  has  come,  surely  as  was  His  promise  of  old, 
"  He  will  send  His  angel  before,"  and  discover  the  fair  Rebekah, 
or  meditative  Isaac.  "The  thing  proceedeth  from  the  Lord." 

And  now  unto  Abraham's  God  I  commend  thee.  May  "the 
Lord,  before  whom  I  walk,  send  His  angel  with  thee,  and  prosper 
all  thy  wayl" 


HANDS    FULL.  2  29 

DELAWARE,  Whitsunday,  May  31,  1868. 

I  believe  there  are  as  noble,  pure,  and  perfect  women  now  walk- 
ing the  earth  as  in  Bible  days,  or  any  period  of  earth's  history. 
And  this  is  the  observation  and  actual  knowledge  of  a  very  narrow 
life,  shut  up  in  a  secluded  home.  In  such  a  little,  little  circle  I 
know  of  married  women  and  young  girls  so  high,  so  noble,  so  un- 
selfish, so  devoted,  that  no  man  is  able  to  measure  them !  There, 
that  is  just  my  opinion  of  "woman."  Ruined  and  fallen  as  she  is, 
"first  in  the  fall,"  she  still  holds  her  heaven-appointed  place  mid- 
way between  man  and  angel — only  as  much  below  angels  as  man 
is  below  her.  You  laugh?  Well,  I  can  afford  to  let  you  laugh, 
as  you  are  only  a  poor  man  ! 

Well,  let  this  now  truly  "merry  theme"  pass.  I  did  not  mean 
to  say  half  a  dozen  words,  but  see  how;  the  pen  has  run  on,  in 
scarcely  a  Sunday  talk; — only,  to  me,  this  topic  has  a  sacred  side. 

But  now  to  the  children.  N not  at  home  yet! — with  such 

heart-longings  for  her.  Still  her  father  insists  we  ought  to  let  her 
remain  for  the  benefit  of  a  summer  in  the  East,  and  all  my  friends 
here,  who  know  of  her  close  confinement  and  devotion  as  a  sister 
and  daughter  these  years,  say  to  me,  "O  do  let  her  stay  longer!" 
But  I  am  getting  homesick  for  her.  Can't  you  bring  her  home 
this  month?  Dear  J.,  you  can  do  nothing  this  summer  that,  I  be- 
lieve, will  be  so  full  of  real  work  for  the  Master  as  a  visit  to  these 

western  cousins.  J needs  you  (what  is  an  own  cousin  worth, 

if  he  is  not  to  use?)  She  is  fast  getting  on  out  of  childhood. 
What  a  check,  close  intercourse  with  a  manly  cousin  would  be  to 
a  pretty,  wilful  girl,  who  is  inclined  to  feel  older  than  she  is ! 
Ah,  my  hands  are  more  than  full.  A  poor,  weak  mother  that 
never  was  "trained,"  or  touched  in  character  herself  by  any  but 
heavenly  discipline,  w.hat  can  she,  does  she,  know  of  training  chil- 
dren ?  And  seven  immortals  in  her  charge !  If  she  could  not 
"go  and  tell  Jesus,"  if  power  was  not  promised  to  the  faint,  and 
strength  to  them  who  have  no  might,  she  would  be  without  hope 

indeed.  M and  F ,  and  H (dear  "mother's  girl"), — 

what  good  seed  your  visit  might  drop  into  their  hearts ! — a  bright, 
brave  Christian  cousin's  visit,  without  one  word  directly  spoken  to 
them! 


230  MONEY    OR    LOVE — WHICH? 

Her  nephew  graduated  in  June,  1868,  and  in  September  went  to 
C ,  Iowa,  and  accepted  a  situation  with  a  Railway  Construction 


Co. 

This  letter  is  in  reply  to  one  received  from  him  at  that  place. 

DELAWARE,  October  16,  1868. 
MY  DEAR  J. : — 

I  had  just  written  my  last  letter  to  N— — ,  and  said,   "Bring 

home,  be  sure,  J 's  address,"  when  J bounced  in  with, 

"A  curiosity,  mother;  a  letter  from  cousin  J !"     Of  course  I 

opened  //.  "Particular  Nell"  would  not  have  said  no.  I  just 
want  to  shake  you  for  not  telling  us  at  once  your  whereabouts  soon 
as  you  reached  your  quarters.  It  was  shameful.  Were  you  afraid 
of  being  flooded  with  letters  from  your  native  town?  There  is  no 
way  to  get  over  this  treatment  but  to  take  that  shaking.  When  can 
that  be?  Now,  I  do  not  like  plans,  so  do  not  say,  "Plan  a  visit 
to  us  Christmas  holidays;"  but  I  do  say,  "In  your  heart  deter- 
mine, D.  V.,  'I  will  see  dear  auntie  and  cousins  before  the  new 
year.'  "  That  will  be  only  sensible  (very  important  for  a  half 
Yankee),  and  only  loving  and  right  (which  is  more  important  for 
a  half  Jerseyman).  Dear  J.,  I  must  see  you  soon.  Now  I  beseech 
you,  don't  take  a  Yankee  look  over  the  question — "it  will  cost  too 
much."  And,  as  for  wisely  laying  up,  which  is  worth  most,  a  heap 
of  money  or  a  heap  of  love?  Now  I  will  give  till  Christmas  to 
solve  that  question. 

I  answer  your  note  to   N by  return  of  mail.      Don't  be 

scared.  I  write  few  letters,  my  eyes  are  so  bad ;  and  I  am  getting 
too  old  for  much  letter-writing.  And  it  has  been  impossible  to 

find  the  time  this  year  past,  with  dear  N away.     How  I  have 

missed  N •  words  cannot  tell.     But  her. father  had  decided  a 

summer  East  for  her.     It  had  to  be. 

With  you  we  enjoy  the  daily  report  of  General  Convention  mat- 
ters. Ah,  our  beloved  Zion  is  passing  through  troublous  days, 
fiery  trial.  But  "He  sitteth  as  a  refiner  and  purifier;"  that  is  the 
comfort,  the  hope.  In  six  troubles  He  has'  stood  by  her,  in  seven 
no  evil  shall  touch  her.  The  Lord  reigneth. 

I  am  glad  you  are  West,  glad  you  have  this  season  for  waiting 
upon  the  Lord.  I  want  you  to  take  full  time  to  "  walk  about  Zion 


A   QUIET   TALK.  23! 

and  go  round  about  her;  tell  the  towers  thereof,  mark  well  her 
bulwarks,  consider  her  palaces." 

You  are  in  the  Good  Shepherd's  hands.  If  He  needs  you  He 
will  call  you.  And  even  as  St.  Paul  you  will  testify  (Gal.  i.  15,  16). 
Laid  at  His  feet  are  the  mother's  prayers  for  her  darling  boy.  His 
eye  is  upon  those  prayers.  Every  desire  of  them  will  be  answered 
— in  His  way,  His  time. 

DELAWARE,  January  10,  1869, 

First  Sunday  after  Epiphany. 

MY  OWN  DEAR  J. : — 

I  have  not  forgotten  your  letter  all  this  time — not  at  all.  Early 
in  November,  our  faithful  servant  Mary,  who  has  been  with  us 
about  four  years,  was  married ;  since,  a  family  of  eleven,  and  no 
"  help,"  has  left  me  no  leisure  for  letter-writing.  A  peep  at  yours 
of  November  2&th  brings  back  the  old  question,  "  Why  did  you 
attempt  to  change  your  handwriting?"  It  was  good  in  itself,  and 
so  like  your  mother's.  I  cannot,  will  not,  try  to  like  your  present 
style.  "Then  let  it  alone!"  do  you  say?  So  I  will.  I  inclose 
Mary  G.'s  card,  recommending  her  as  a  good  teacher  to  improve 
your  present  curious  girlish  style.  I  hate  back-hand,  as  I  always 
told  her ;  but  she  declares  it  was  born  in  her,  and  she  never  could 
write  any  other  way.  You  can't  say  that.  But  don't  be  moved 
from  anything  by  a  woman's  words — never  ! 

Well,  you  did  not  come  Christmas,  as  you  ought;  and  I  may  as 
well  slip  by' the  precious  season,  and  bring  you  at  my  side  this  very 
Sunday  afternoon,  with  a  peep  at  each  one  of  us.  You  and  I  are 
at  the  great  dining-table  in  the  dining-room  for  quiet  talk,  away 

from  the  little  ones,  F and  M ,  who  are  with  their  father 

in  the  nursery.  He  has  just  finished  reading  a  library  book  to 
them,  and  has  opened  his  commentaries  and  books  to  prepare  the 
usual  Sunday  afternoon  Scripture  lesson  for  the  family,  which  we 

have  before  church  in  the  evening.  N was  busy  with  her  book 

when  I  passed  through  the  parlor, — "  Goulburn  on  the  Study  of  the 
Bible,"  I  think.  What  comfort  I  have  in  her,  now  I  have  her  back, 
no  words  can  tell.  Her  health  has  never  been  so  good,  and  her 
whole  character  has  so  matured  and  strengthened  by  the  discipline 
of  her  twelve  months'  visit.  I  say  discipline,  for  the  dear  child 
saw  life  in  many  aspects.  There  were  many  shades  and  lines  a 


232  A   TREASURE. 

mother  could  not  have  chosen  for  her  to  see.  But  infinitely  more 
tender  love  than  mother's  guided  all,  and,  I  trust,  brought  to  her 
and  those  visited  His  own  rich  blessings,  even  that  blessing  "that 
maketh  rich,  and  no  sorrow  is  added  to  it."  I  understand  this 
child  now  as  I  never  did  before.  All  these  years  of  training  she 
has  been  almost  incomprehensible,  with  a  childhood  and  girlhood 
so  totally  unlike  my  own.  But  I  see  now, — she  is  her  father's 
child.  And  God  has  given  me  in  her  just  what  I  most  needed, 
and  what  is  best  for  these  brothers  and  sisters.  Such  patient  thought- 
fulness  and  gentleness,  what  a  treasure  at  the 'head  of  such  a  turbu- 
lent household,  under  such  a  mercurial  mother !  I  would  not  now 
alter  one  trait  of  disposition,  if  I  could,  for  all  the  world.  Above 
all,  there  seems  to  have  been  such  a  deepening  of  the  religious 
character,  what  and  all  I  had  so  often  begged  for  her.  Oh,  shall 
I  not  tell  of  His  praise,  who  has  done  this,  with  thankfulness,  and 
trust  Him  more  and  more  wholly  ?  .  .  .  . 

I  greatly  enjoyed  the  "week  of  prayer,"  going  of  evenings  into 
the  little  Presbyterian  meetings  (Mr.  Ufford  has  no  meetings).  I 

suppose  it  was  observed  in  ,  and  that  our  prayers  often 

mingled.  This  morning  Mr.  Ufford's  sermon  brought  you  very 
near,  when  so  touchingly  speaking  of  the  great  need  of  laborers  in 
the  Lord's  vineyard.  Oh,  that  the  Lord  would  call  my  own  dear 
boys  !  that  he  would  accept  you  for  His  work  !  If  He  has  denied 
to  you  those  gifts  and  that  grace  that  would  fit  you  for  that  service, 
then  I  desire  to  say  for  myself  and  for  your  mother,  His  will  be 
done!  Then  be  "diligent  in  business,"  and  consecrate  at  least 
one-tenth  of  your  increase  to  send  some  other  young  laborer  to  do 
the  work  not  permitted  you.  I  laid  by  for  you,  dear,  this  old  letter 
of  your  uncle's.  May  God  speak  to  you  through  the  words  of  him 
called  to  minister  in  the  upper  sanctuary !  May  his  mantle  fall 
upon  you — his  perfect  consecration  to  God  ! 

My  heart  is  too  full  for  words  upon  this  theme. 

Mrs.  Platt  most  earnestly  and  prayerfully  desired  that  her  nephew 
should  consecrate  his  life  to  the  service  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  in 
the  work  of  the  ministry.  She  frequently  spoke  of  it,  and  often 
mentioned  the  subject  in  her  letters  to  him.  In  a  letter,  dated 
Easter  Monday,  April  18,  1870  (he  was  still  in  Iowa),  she  writes  : — 


HANNAH'S  'PRAYER.  233 

Yes,  I  want  this  burden  to  be  laid  upon  you  to  the  very  utmost. 
"Why,  Aunt  Jennie  !"  Yes,  I  do,  dear  boy;  for  I  think  God  is 
giving  you  this  fulness  of  business  life  that  your  active  spirit  may  be 
satisfied  to  come  back  to  a  student's  quiet,  reflective  life,  with  such 
freshness  of  joy,  such  restful  comfort,  as  you  have  never  yet  known 
or  guessed.  That  is  what  I  wish,  that  is  what  I  believe  for  you,  the 
precious  child  of  my  sainted  sister's  prayers  !  This  business  portion 
of  your  life  was  necessary  training  ;  part  of  His  plan  for  fitting  you 
for  His  highest  service.  He  is  preparing  you,  who  called  you  by 
His  grace,  and  revealed  His  Son  in  you,  that  you  may  preach  Him 
among  the  heathen  (Gal.  i.  15,  16).  /may  not  live  to  see  it,  but 
I  fully  believe  the  time  will  come  when  you  will  testify,  with  St. 
Paul,  as  a  preacher  of  the  Gospel,  "And  they  glorified  God  in 
me." 

Come  and  take  up  your  abode  in  Gambier  Seminary.  Who  can 

tell  ?  God  may  draw  my  own  dear  F to  follow.  Do  I  see  any 

present  indications  in  that  direction  in  him?  Not  any.  But  "with 
God  all  things  are  possible."  Hannah's  prayer  was  heard;  her 
boy  was  accepted  and  called  to  His  temple  service.  Hannah's 
prayer  must  ever  follow  my  boys  and  you  as  long  as  I  live,  joining 
your  own  mother's  one  desire  for  you  !  Oh,  I  would  rather  my 
son  should  "be  a  doorkeeper"  in  the  service  of  the  ministry, — take 
the  lowest  position  in  earnest  work  for  Jesus, — than  accept  for  him 
the  highest  place  that  man  can  offer.  But  I  leave  all  to  Him  who 
is  wonderful  in  counsel.  The  call  can  only  come  from  Him.  I 
do  not  speak  thus  to  my  boys ;  but  you  are  now  choosing  life-work 
in  one  sense.  May  God  hold  and  guide  your  feet  and  heart ! 

A  BIRTHDAY  GIFT. 
"  If  we  suffer  we  shall  also  reign." 

MY  DEAR  J.  :  — 

I  found  among  my  papers  the  inclosed.  It  seems  as  if  fresh  from 
your  mother's  pen.  Such  a  true  picture  of  that  heart !  I  felt  that 
the  child  who  was,  as  she  said,  "a  part  of  myself,"  ought  to  have 
these  verses  in  his  keeping.  In  all  the  sufferings  God  may  call 
you  to  know,  you  can  herein  read  from  whence  you  derive  the 
capacity  of  suffering.  I  will  not  add  my  poor  words.  May  she, 
being  dead,  yet  speak  and  comfort ! 


234  POEM. 


THE  HOME-CIRCLE. 

They  meet  once  more  around  the  hearth, 

Within  their  children's  home, 
Where,  'mid  their  own  sweet  household  mirth, 

Is  heard  no  jarring  tone. 
The  lamp  sheds  down  its  cheerful  light 

On  youth  and  beauty  there, 
On  manhood  in  his  conscious  might, 

On  woman,  gentle,  fair. 

The  father  with  a  smile  of  pride 

Looks  on  each  form  so  dear, 
And  strives  his  tenderness  to  hide, 

To  check  the  starting  tear. 
Long  years  of  sorrow,  toil,  and  pain 

Are  all  alike  forgot; 
His  home,  his  loved,  his  all  remain, — 

Earth  has  no  happier  lot. 

The  mother's  heart  with  love  o'erflows, 

Sweet  tears  of  rapture  rise ; 
Bliss  deep,  untold,  her  bosom  knows, 

Bound  by  these  tender  ties. 
She  gazes  on  that  happy  band, 

And  thinks  of  years  to  come, 
And  prays  that  to  a  brighter  land 

The  Lord  may  lead  them  home. 

And  they  who  thus  from  childhood's  years, 

Have  shared  one  common  home, 
United  in  their  hopes  and  fears, 

Nor  wish  from  thence  to  roam. 
Oh,  brightly  do  their  bosoms  glow 

With  joy,  untouched  by  care, 
And  sweetly  do  their  voices  flow, 

So  gently  mingling  there. 

A  few  short  years  have  winged  their  flight — 

How  desolate  that  hearth  ! 
How  lonely  is  that  home,  once  bright, 

Hushed  are  the  sounds  of  mirth. 
There  is  no  form  within  its  walls 

Once  seen  amid  that  throng, 
Deserted  are  its  empty  halls, 

Unheard  youth's  merry  song. 


POEM — THE    HOME   CIRCLE.  235 

That  father's  smile,  that  mother's  voice, 

Have  passed  from  earth  away; 
And  they  who  did  once  here  rejoice, 

The  young,  the  fair,  the  gay, 
Their  joyous  meetings  now  are  o'er, 

Around  thy  hearth,  sweet  home; 
Wide-scattered  o'er  their  native  shore, 

In  distant  climes  they  roam. 

Some  'mid  the  dreams  of  youth  and  love 

Have  sunk  to  peaceful  sleep, 
While  lone  and  sad  in  heart  they  rove 

Who,  true,  their  memories  keep. 
Soft  eyes  that  then  so  brightly  shone, 

Arg  dimmed  by  silent  tears; 
So  changed  those  brows,  we  scarce  would  own 

The  friends  of  early  years.  _^ 

And  must  swift  time  such  changes  bring, 

Thus  sever  strongest  ties  ? 
Thus  pass  away  each  cherished  thing 

We  love  below  the  skies  ? 
Yes,  'tis  the  voice  of  God  doth  speak 

To  every  fainting  breast, 
"  In  heaven  a  lasting  portion  seek, 

This,  this  is  not  your  rest." 

And  shall  the  loved  ne'er  meet  again, 

That  happy,  blessed  band  ? 
Oh,  when  the  Lord  doth  come  to  reign, 

They  shall  together  stand. 
Tho'  severed  wide  their  sleeping  dust 

May  rest  on  shore  or  sea, 
Earth  shall  resign  its  precious  trust — 

Then  shall  their  meeting  be ! 

If  by  one  Lord,  one  Saviour  led, 

They  pilgrims  dwell  below 
United  in  one  common  Head, 

One  joy,  one  hope  to  know, 
Then  shall  all  sorrow  ever  flee 

And  gladness,  peace,  be  given; 
Oh,  joyful  shall  their  meeting  be, 

All  saved,  all  blest  in  heaven ! 

PHILADELPHIA,  Jan.  25,  1837.  MARTHA  C.  HULME. 


236  A   YEAR   OF   TRIAL. 

The  severe  illness  of  his  father  following  his  withdrawal  from 
his  old  parish  in  B.  and  other  changes  in  family  affairs,  had  com- 
pelled her  nephew  to  resign  his  place  in  what  even  then  seemed 
the  "  Far  West,"  that  he  might  be  nearer  the  home  family,  and  at 
liberty  to  respond  to  any  call  that  might  come.  He  had  been 
studying  law  in  the  leisure  hours  since  graduating,  and  in  the 
spring  of  1871  entered  an  office  in  J.,  M.,  to  complete  this  work. 
The  change  involved  a  painful  struggle,  especially  in  necessarily 
deferring  his  marriage.  It  is,  doubtless,  to  all  this  that  reference 
is  made  in  the  two  following  letters.  The  first  was  written  just  after 
a  visit  to  Delaware,  on  his  way  from  the  East  to  his  new  field  of 
labor. 

« 
DELAWARE,  Sunday  afternoon,  April  16,  1871. 

Yours  of  the  ^Ifrnade  you  very  near.  How  often  my  precious 
sister's  boy  is  before  me !  Your  letter  gave  me  much  pain — sym- 
pathy, but  not  sorrow,  nor  regret,  nor  doubt;  not  one  shade  of 
doubt  as  to  your  plain  duty,  or  as  to  God's  overruling  blessing  that 
will  surely  be  the  end  of  all  this  year  of  trial.  One  has  placed  you 
in  the  furnace  who  ever  will  sit  by.  The  fire  can  burn  no  higher 
than  He  wills; -it  can  rise  only  to  that  point  necessary  for  highest 
good.  Do  you  know,  I  believe  this  will  be  the  enviable  year  of 
your  life!  Not  only  when  we  can  look  back  over  all  the  way  the 
Lord  God  has  led  us,  but  even  here  Jesus  would  never  suffer  such 
pain  and  trouble  to  come  to  his  young  child  if  He  was  not  holding 
in  His  hand  some  great  good  He  Himself  will  give  as  the  great 
gain,  the  end,  the  true  meaning.  For  you  there  is  nothing  but  to 
"endure  as  seeing  Him  who  is  invisible."  Not  a  distrust  should 
you  suffer.  For  has  He  not  all  power?  Can  He  not  take  care  of 
all  that  is  upon  your  heart?  You  should  not  say,  "and  if."  The 
future  is  dead,  the  past  is  dead;  your  duty  is  now  only  with  God's 
present.  If  you  nobly  battle  as  a  brave  soldier  of  Christ  Jesus, 
swiftly  and  sweetly  will  the  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  days  pass 
away;  more  and  more  learning  just  what  the  Saviour  is  in  "the 
time  of  trouble,"  the  meaning  of  "  a  very  present  help."  Forever 
you  will  look  back  upon  this  one  year  as  the  brightest  and  happiest 
of  your  life  below.  I  am  sure  of  this;  God's  Word  is  full  of  this 
testimony. 

I  cannot,  will  not,  think  of  you  as  suffering.    I  will  not  so  doubt 


AN    ENVIABLE    YEAR.  237 

His  goodness  who  has  said,  "I  will  not  leave  you  comfortless." 
He  is  able  to  so  keep  in  perfect  peace,  in  the  peace  which  passeth 
understanding,  ever  a  poor,  trembling  woman's  heart  that  wholly 
trusts  in  Him,  that  she  can  "glory  in  tribulation."  I  say  again, 
this  is  an  enviable  year;  a  year  of  walking  "not  by  sight;"  a  year 
shut  up  to  but  one  arm  for  support,  and  that  the  blessed  Master's; 
but  one  bosom  on  which  to  pour  out  sorrow,  and  that  the  dear 
Redeemer's.  How  angels  must  watch !  How  they  could  covet 
such  mortal  privilege  !  How  about  your  path  may  hover  that 
mother's  spirit !  God  bless  and  help  and  keep  you!  I  have  no 
fear  for  you,  my  precious  boy. 

And  now  God's  one  way  of  healing  and  helping  a  bleeding 
heart  is  through  that  heart's  trying  to  help  others.  May  He  lead 
you  into  a  year  of  fulness  of  work  for  Him!  One  little  mite  in 
this  direction  will  be,  I  think,  your  answer  to  your  young  cousins' 
longing  to  see  you.  We  are  all  settled  so  snugly  in  our  pleasant 

little  new  home,  which  N calls  "Oak-Tree  Lodge."     Oh  do 

come  and  see  us  very  soon ! 

V 

DELAWARE,  Sunday  afternoon. 

"  That  we  may  perceive  and  know  what  things  we  ought  to  do  and  have  grace  to 
perform  the  same." 

My  sister's  precious  boy,  how  through  and  through  my  heart 
has  been  this  one  prayer  for  you  all  this  day,  and  ever  since  you 
left!  That  God  will  "  keep  you  from  all  things  hurtful,"  and  lead 
you  to  follow  only  His  holy  will.  Then  all  will,  must  be  forever 
well.  "  God  has  a  plan  in  every  man's  life  (I  wish  you  would 
borrow  from  some  minister's  library  Bushnell's  sermon  upon  Isaiah 
xlv.  5,  "I  girded  thee,  though  thou  hast  not  known  me."  You 
would  so  surely  find  such  sweet  comfort  and  help  in  the  great 
thoughts  of  that  sermon). 

You  said  you  should  go  to  church  this  morning,  and  you  were 
before  me  through  all  the  services.  The  fulness  of  the  sweet 
Psalter-promises  seemed  all  for  you:  "My  hope  is  in  Him;  He 
only  is  my  strength  and  salvation ;  He  is  my  defence,  so  that  I 
shall  not  fall."  Did  not  you  mark  that  promise,  "  Thy  loving- 
kindness  is  better  than  the  life  itself?"  That  is,  God,  our  own 
covenant  God,  will  make  up  for  all  losses,  all  crosses,  in  the  life 


238  SUCH    A    FATHER  !  % 

of  a  soul  that  simply  trusts  in  Him,  and  seeks  first  to  do  His  will. 
So  that  we  cannot,  dare  not,  say,  "this  cross-event,  this  unchosen 
course  will  make  me  miserable."  God,  our  tender-loving  Father, 
with  more  than  mother's  love,  never  led  or  suffered  a  child  of  His 
to  go  into  a  path  that  would  make  him  miserable;  or  where  he 
would  not  be  happier  than  in  any  other  path.  For  He  Himself 
can  make  up  for  all  loss.  I  can  only  pray  for  you.  May  His 
peace  wholly  possess  your  soul !  *  His  wisdom  be  a  shield  and 
guard  about  every  thought,  desire,  and  purpose,  so  that  you  shall 
not  fall. 

I  do  not  write  this  for  any  answer,  but  from  the  fulness  of  my 
love  and  sympathy.  The  heart  is  often  too  sore  for  words  for 
mortal" ear.  But  "when  my  spirit  was  overwhelmed  within  me, 
Thou  knewest  my  path."  It  is  just  here,  in  and  through  such 
experiences,  that  we  come  to  know  and  prove  our  Saviour's  tender 
love  and  sympathy,  as  we  never  knew  before.  God  will  direct  your 
steps;  I  feel  so  sure  of  this.  He  will  not  "suffer  you  to  fall," 
and  "though  you  fall  you  will  arise  again,"  for  He  upholds  you 
with  His>Dwn  hand. 

Her  nephew  wrote  of  the  great  kindness  of  his  new  acquain- 
tances, and  of  the  warm  friends  he  made  among  them,  especially 
of  the  family  of  the  senior  partner  of  the  firm  with  whom  he  was 
studying.  Their  house  became  a  veritable  home  to  him. 

DELAWARE,  April  23,  1871, 

Second  Sunday  after  Easter. 

Your  letter  of  last  week  to  J (parts  of  which  she  let  us  share 

with  her)  was  such  a  comfort  to  me.  It  seemed  a  comment  upon 
these  words  of  our  lesson  this  morning,  "I  did  know  thee  in  the 
wilderness,  in  the  land  of  great  drought."  Your  letter  seemed  to 
verify  this  declaration.  How  God  has  already  shown  His  loving, 
ever  mindful  care  over  His  tried  servant !  How  many  little 
helps  and  avenues  of  refreshment  have  been  opened  to  you  ! 
Surely  from  no  other's  hand  than  "the  Giver  of  every  good  and 
perfect  gift."  I  knew  He  would  care  for  you;  yes,  care  even  for 
your  happiness — such  a  Father  as  He  is  ! 

How  often  you  are  in  my  thoughts  !  And  in  church,  this  morn- 
ing, how  the  above  words  brought  you  so  near !  I  am  going  to 


GRAND   OLD   TRUTH.  239 

mail  a  little  old  book  for  your  Sunday  meditations,  though  I  sup- 
pose you  can  have  but  few  spare  moments  on  that  day.  I  send  it 
for  two  reasons :  because  its  quaint,  old-fashioned  style  teaching 
of  the  grand  old  truth,  "  God's  sovereignty  and  wisdom,"  took 
possession  of  my  own  heart,  I  think,  when  I  was  about  your  age. 

I  had  it  from  our  Scotch  uncle's  library, — Cousin  J 's  father, — 

a  forlornly  printed  old  leather-bound  book ;  but  what  beauty  and 
freshness  have  again  and  again  come  over  my  path  through  its  les- 
sons !  It  touched  my  heart  and  life  for  help,  perhaps,  more  than 
any  other  next  the  Bible.  That  is  one  reason  ;  and  I  fancy  your 
long  attendance  upon  good,  sound,  strong,  Congregational  preach- 
ing, while  at  college,*  will  prepare  you  to  appreciate  Thomas  Bos- 
ton's sermon,  or  treatise. 

But  if  you  do  not  happen  to  fancy  it — I  should  better  say, 
have  any  relish  for  it — consider  that  a  sure,  good  reason  for  not 
reading  it,  according  to  Goulburn's  theory,  which  I  think  good 
sense  and  correct.  His  (Goulburn's)  "Thoughts  on  Personal 
Religion,"  and  ".Pursuit  of  Holiness,"  "written  for  busy  business 
men;"  if  you  have  not  yet  read  them,  get  them  from  your  good 
minister, — most  useful  books  published  for  many  a  day,  I  think, 
with  many,  many  who  have  read  them. 

May  God  ever  bless  and  keep  you  ! 

Over-work  and  anxiety  brought  on  an  attack  of  brain  fever. 
Though  he  quickly  rallied,  he  was  obliged  to  go  slowly  with  his 
work,  and  wrote  despondingly  of  future  strength  and  usefulness, 
and  even  of  prolonged  life.  The  following  was  part  of  the  reply : — 

WHITSUNDAY,  May  27,  1871. 
"  Man  is  immortal  till  his  work  is  done." 

MY  OWN  PRECIOUS  J.  : — 

I  am  not  going  to  answer  your  last  except  for  a  few  brief  words. 
My  heading  is  a  fact  you  will  not  dispute.  If  premonitions  were 
God's  plan  for  showing  and  preparing  us  for  His  future  will  con- 
cerning us,  again,  again,  and  again  would  my  life  have  been  closed 
long  years  ago.  That  is  not  God's  usual  plan.  "  Go  work  in  my 
vineyard;  I  may  call  thee  in  the  morning,  noon,  or  midnight." 

*  Williams  College,  Massachusetts. 


240  A    PREDICTION. 

"As  thy  day  so  shall  thy  strength  be  ;  for  my  grace  is  sufficient ; 
my  strength  is  made  perfect  in  weakness." 

"  Foredate  the  day  of  woe, 
Thou  alone  shall  bear  the  blow." 

"  Strength  is  promised,  strength  is  given, 
When  by  God  the  heart  is  riven." 

I  know,  dear  boy,  that  you  have  no  dread ;  nor  have  you  the 
right  to  look  ahead.  Life  is  a  wide,  wide  sea  just  now, — a  raging 
sea  to  you.  What  can  a  poor,  tempest-tossed  mariner  see  ahead  ? 
Exhausted  and  blinded  by  the  storm  is  he,  with  no  hold  but  the 
strong,  firm  grasp  of  the  Pilot's  hand.  But,  oh,  how  safe  ! 

DELAWARE,  Sunday  eve. 

.  .  .  .  Were  you  to  sit  down  in  a  professor's  chair,  in  some 
Western  college,  would  not  this  life-work  be  as  much  to  your  taste, 
and  in  your  line  of  talent  ?  Next  to  preaching  comes  teaching,  as 
I  reckon.  An  educator  of  the  mind  and  heart  is  only  one  remove 
from  the  soul-trainer,  soul-seeker,  Christ's  own  ambassador.  I 
cannot  think  the  law  just  suited  to  your  excitable  temperament. 
But  you  will,  I  have  not  one  doubt,  follow  on  to  know  just  what 
He  has  for  you  to  do.  There  is  one  Eye  always  upon  your  path ; 
can  there  be  a  misstep  and  He  not  see,  not  prevent,  if  it  be  best  ? 
Any  disappointment,  pain,  or  care  touch  the  life  of  His  child,  and 
He  not  interpose,  if  it  be  best  ?  Away  from  all  second  causes, 
turn  ever  and  only  to  the  one  Governor  supreme.  Be  assured  your 
present  was  part  of  His  plan,  and  therefore  right  and  best.  No 
matter  if  you  cannot  see  and  understand  it  now.  God  is  a  Father, 
desiring  the  happiness  of  His  children  ever ;  never  willingly  afflict- 
ing, or  giving  or  permitting  one  pain  that  could  be  safely  spared  a 
child.  So,  for  some  reason  seen  by  Him,  your  highest  happiness 
required  the  present  trial, — to  be  a  gain  to  earthly  happiness,  as 
well  as  eternal  gain,  I  doubt  not. 

In  a  letter  to  her  nephew,  under  date  June  8,  1871,  his  aunt 
manifests  her  anxiety  for  his  health,  urging  him  to  take  his  father's 
advice,  and  go  abroad  and  rest  from  head-work  a  while.  She 
writes: — 


OUR  FATHER'S  LOVE.  241 

I  am  tempted,  if  I  knew  Miss  C 's  address,  to  ask  her  opinion 

and  help.  In  any  event,  failing  or  carrying  out  your  present  plans, 
your  future  needs  sound  health.  No  one  has  a  right  to  take  into  a 
family  impaired  health.  Oh  what  sorrow,  care,  and  wretchedness 
come  from  forgetting  this !  You  have  been  overtaxed.  I  am  not 
in  the  least  alarmed.  You  are  not  any  more  excitable  in  nervous 
organization  than  was  your  mother;  and  what  seasons  of  wretched- 
ness and  depression  of  spirit,  nights  without  sleep,  etc.,  did  God 
safely  bring  her  through!  So  will  He  uphold  you;  He  knows 
your  frame,  He  ever  "  remembereth."  "Man  is  a  harp  of  a 
thousand  strings,"  and  every  string  has  been  strung  and  tuned  by 
God.  The  Maker's  eye  is  ever  upon  His  instrument;  no  breath 
can  touch,  no  chord  can  vibrate,  and  He  not  know,  permit — nay, 
more,  cause  sweetest  music  for  His  ear.  Love  is  the  meaning  of 
all  He  does.  He  who  made  you  is  fitting  you  for  His  own  service 
here,  and  your  home  hereafter,  by  all  these  passing  trials  and 
crossed  purposes.  He  is  satisfied ;  He  would  not  change  or  leave 
out  one  trial.  So  strong,  so  true  His  love,  "  He  never  spares  us 
for  our  crying." 

Now  /  think  you  should  listen  to  your  father,  me,  and  your 
physician,  and  go  with  this  little  party  to  Germany  for  your  health. 
Dr.  H.  goes  in  July.  I  think  he  wants  another  gentleman  in  his 
party  of  four. 

[From  letters  without  date.] 

.  .  .  .  God  has  a  plan  of  life  mapped  out  for  each  of  our 
dear  children,  if  we  can  only  spell  out  His  will  and  way. 

When  did  children  more  need  than  now  to  be  taught  the  sanctity 
and  reverence  of  Christian  worship?  Who  can  turn  from  these 
crowded  popular  meetings  all  about  us  to  the  "Cqmmon  Prayer" 
of  our  dear  old  church,  and  not  rejoice  in  the  calm  and  quiet,  the 
patient  expectation  and  rest  of  her  services,  and  feel  her  spirituality 
too  deep  for  noise  or  surface-ruffling? 

What  a  gay,  easy,  light-hearted,  sweet-hearted  boy is  to  his 

mamma!  Laugh  away;  you  do  not  know  how  pleasant  to  an  old 
heart  it  is  to  see  life  over  again  through  young  eyes  and  feelings. 

And as  yet  has  not  tasted  one  shade  of  care  or  crossed  pur-\ 

16 


242  COMMENCEMENT. 

poses;  just  can  look  out  upon  life  from  nineteen  happy  years.     But, 

dear  J ,  the  untried  light  that  comes  before  such  eyes  can  be 

but  as  the  cold  gray  dawn  to  the  noontide  sun.  The  joy,  the  hope, 
the  rest,  the  peace  of  later  years  so  much  the  better! — that  joy 
which  comes  after  sorrow,  the  rest  and  peace  after  conflict.  Years 
only  grow  golden  as  they  stretch  on  and  on,  and  begin  to  catch 
the  gleams  of  eternal  day. 

DELAWARE,  June  26,  1871. 
MY  OWN  DEAR  J. : — 

.  .  .  Don't  you  want  to  run  down  to  keep  "the  Fourth" 
with  the  children?  Come,  spend  a  week.  If  not  a  week,  then 
four  days  ;  if  not  four  days,  then  one  day,  the  Fourth.  We  always 
have  a  family  picnic  in  the  woods.  Come. 

Tuesday  morning. 

To-morrow  the  maidens  are,  in  all  their  glory  of 
dress  and  exhibition  and  glowing  speeches,  going  processionally 
into  the  Opera  House,  etc.  etc.  Thursday  comes  the  College 
day,  with  grand  Commencement  doings  beneath  the  College  trees. 
And  sprinkled  in  and  through  the  three  or  four  passing  weeks 
(moonlight,  of  course — with  consequences),  rides  (daylight  and 
moonlight),  with  divers  evening  entertainments,  etc.  etc.,  until 
our  little  town  is  wholly  demoralized — in  a  light  but  sober  sense  of 
that  word.  I  guess  one  mother  will  be  glad  when  they  are  all 
gone.  We  are  the  quietest  of  villages  after  Commencement. 
Come  and  see;  do,  dear  J. 

Mrs.  Platt  sent. her  photograph  to  her  nephew,  that  had  just  been 
taken.  He  wrote  his  appreciation  of  it,  and  says:  "It  is  a  per- 
fectly ideal  picture." 

The  childlike  simplicity  with  which  she  writes  about  it  is  only 
equalled  by  the  sincerity  of  her  acceptance  of  this  "freshness"  as 
another  of  God's  blessings. 

DELAWARE,  September  7,  1871. 
MY  OWN  J.  : — 

I  suppose  I  may  call  you  that  for  a  while  longer?     I  am  so  glad 

/or  your  happiness  in  Miss  C .     The  peace  and  rest  after  our 

life-storms,  oh  how  sweet ! 


MY   PICTURE.  243 

I  am  glad  you  liked  my  "  picture,"  for  picture  it  is  ;  not  by  the 
face  that  the  glass  mirrors,  but  of  the  heart  that  God  has  had  in 
His  holy  keeping,  now  near  fifty-five  years.  My  husband  is  amused 
at  my  "  liking  so  well  my  own  picture."  It  is  true  it  was  a  sur- 
prise and  delight  to  me,  as  it  can  be  to  no  other.  I  did  not  suppose 
it  possible  that  a  face  that  has  passed  through  so  many  old,  old 
days,  could  ever  show  forth  in  this  life  such  young,  fresh  look  ! 
Features  that  have  so  often  quivered  in  untold  anguish  in  moments 
when,  overwhelmed  within  me,  God  only  knew  my  path ;  eyes 
that  had  rained  so  many  tears  ;  heart  that  has  carried  so  many  cares 
and  burdens, — that  my  old  face  could  thus  bear  so  true,  true  testi- 
mony to  the  unseen,  loving  One,  always  my  present  help,  always 
my  comforter,  always  under  me  the  everlasting  Arm,  wiping  away 
every  tear,  carrying  for  me  every  burden,  soothing  every  sorrow,, 
and  through  and  by  every  step  of  my  earthly  life  drawing  me  yet 
nearer  and  nearer  to  the  joy  and  peace  and  rest  of  the  heavenly 
home  !  Yes,  my  "  picture"  is  to  me  a  delight  and  joy  in  its  out- 
spoken testimony  to  the  love  and  power  of  "the  God  of  my  life." 
Lay  it  away,  dear  J.,  (1  cannot  endure  photograph  albums),  in  your 
trunk  or  drawer;  and,  whenever  God  sends  sorrow  or  care  upon 
you,  look  at  and  read  the  help  and  joy  God  gave  me,  poor  weak 
woman.  God  make  it  a  little  comforter  to  you  long  after  I  am  not 
here  !  With  this  prayer  it  goes  to  all  who  love  me. 

•    My  picture*  was  taken  for  N 's  "  birthday  surprise,"  and  was 

addressed  "  To  my  first  and  best." 

Easter,  P.  M.,  1872. 
MY  DEAR  J.  : — 

Many  thanks  for  kind  sympathy  !  We  came  through  the  fire 
unharmed. |  "As,  seeing  Him  who  is  invisible,"  we  could  not  for 
one  moment  doubt.  It  was  His  permission,  our  Father's, — His 
whom  we  "had  been  so  long  time  with,"  and  could  not  distrust 
His  love  05  His  wisdom.  In  many  respects,  for  many  reasons,  this 

*  The  same  picture  that  is  alluded  to  in  the  correspondence  with  Mrs.  Benja- 
min. The  engraving  in  this  book  is  a  copy  of  it,  but  lacking  in  that  radiant  ex- 
pression that  is  peculiar  to  the  original  photograph. 

f  Refers  to  the  burning  of  the  family  house,  that  occurred  but  a  short  time 
before. 


244  A    QUIET   REST. 

is  a  trying  dispensation ;  but,  as  I  said,  from  our  Father's  hand,  so 
wise  and  good, — 

Even  crosses,  from  His  sovereign  hand, 
Are  blessings  in  disguise. 

.     .     .     .     I  think  I  wrote  you  our  dear  J was  confirmed 

the  fifth  Sunday  in  Lent;  to-day  her  "first  communion."  Oh, 
may  it  be  to  her  as  the  sight,  by  faith,  of  Jesus ;  the  clasping  of 
His  loving  hand;  never  to  let  go;  to  be  led  by  him  on  and  on, 
from  strength  to  strength,  until  she  come  unto  His  everlasting  king- 
dom! 

NEW  YORK,  304  Mulberry  St.  [St.  Barnabas], 
June  24,  1872. 

We  owe  all  you  say,  the  children  and  I.  This  season  has  been 
such  a  hurry  and  press  from  the  "  burning-out,"  my  thought  to 
come  East,  sicknesses,  etc.  etc.  The  children  will  not  be  satisfied 
with  bits  of  notes,  or  even  your  pictured  face;  nothing  will  longer 
answer  but  the  looking  upon  you  face  to  face, — nothing  else. 

Leaving  in  May  for  New  York,  I  found  J sick  in  her  school- 
nursery  at  Cleveland ;  brought  her  home,  and  waited  to  settle  the 
dear  ones  once  more  in  our  own  home,  and  came  on  here  last 
Wednesday.  Since  then  I  have  had  just  one  long,  sweet,  quiet 
rest  in  the  peaceful  sanctuary  of  this  Home.*  I  feel  as  if  no  one 

(though  my  dear  N was  so  wholly  captivated)  has  ever  told 

me  of  this  work  for  the  blessed  Master.  I  can  only  declare  my 
whole  assent  and  heart  is  with  this  precious  sister  and  her  sweet 
young  helpers.  God  bless  them,  and  ever  make  them  a  blessing  ! 

Her  nephew  was  admitted  to  the  bar  in  June,  1872  ;  visited  his 

aunt  again  in  September,  and  went  to  ,  where  he  located 

and  commenced  the  practice  of  law. 

This  letter,  from  his  aunt,  refers  to  his  approaching  marriage 
with  the  "  Miss  C."  of  a  former  letter  : — 

*  St.  Barnabas  House, — one  of  the  missions  of  the  Church  in  New  York, 
under  the  management  of  the  Sisterhood  of  the  Good  Shepherd,  of  which  Mrs. 
Plait's  younger  sister  is  the  Presiding  Sister. 


SWEET   OLD    BIBLE    STORY.  245 

DELAWARE,  October  29,  1872. 

Surely  I  can  take  your  long,  good  letter  to  J ,  as  answer  to 

mine.  A  letter  to  her  child  is  always  the  same  or  better  than  a 
letter  to  the  mother.  .  .  • .  . 

What  mother  was  ever  wholly  satisfied  with  a  son's  decision  at 
first?  No  girl  is  quite  good  enough  for  her  boy.  All  she  can 
promise  is,  to  take  his  wife  to  her  heart,  and  hope  and  pray  and 
believe  all  is  for  the  best  in  God's  hands,  all  in  His  ordering.  My 
dear  boy,  again  I  tell  you,  your  own  loving  mother's  prayers  are 
about  your  path  and  about  your  bed.  Never,  never  will  your 
earthly  happiness  be  forgotten  of  God.  I  am  sure  of  this ;  sure  as 
was  the  promise  of  old,  "He  shall  send  His  angel  before  thee," 
and  "with  thee,  and  prosper  thy  way"  (Gen.  24).  It  maybe  that 
all  your  need  is  treasured  up  in  this  strange  maiden  to  us  all,  and 
she  is  to  become  the  helper,  rest,  and  comforter,  to  fill  the  mother's 
and  aunty's  place,  even  as  Rebekah  was  the  appointed  "comforter 
after  the  mother's  death."  I  love  that  sweet,  old  Bible  story.  I 
want  no  one  to  ever  come  as  new  son  or  daughter  into  my  house- 
hold unless  "sent"  by  Abraham's  God. 

I  have  great  comfort  and  pleasure  in  seeing  you,  as  I  do,  in  your 
sew  room.  Take  care,  and  do  not  try  to  be  over-busy.  Is  the 
race  won  always  by  the  swiftest  ? 

A  HAPPY  NEW  YEAR. 

DELAWARE,  Sunday  eve,  January  5,  1873. 

I  suppose  this  will  find  you  back  again  at  your  post,  in  daily 
round  of  duty,  the  happy  Christmas  meeting  all  over.  How  many, 
many  times  we  all  have  talked  of  you,  you  cannot  guess  this  Christ- 
mastide;  though  it  has  been  weeks  since  we  have  written  you,  and 

F 's  letter  remains  yet  unanswered.     We  knew  you  and  she 

were  together,  and  it  could  not  matter  what  the  rest  of  the  world 
did  or  said,  or  whether  anybody  ever  wrote  another  letter.  Well, 
dear  boy,  I  trust  your  Christmas  week  was  very  happy.  Won't 
you  write  soon  and  tell  us  all  about  it?  I  wonder  if  next  Christmas 

we  shall  not  have  you  and  F with  us?     To  be  so  near  as , 

and  yet  not  with  us  for  our  Christmas,  seems  too,  too  bad.  But  I 
hope  you  were  far  happier  than  we  could  have  made  you,  and  the 


246  A  "LOVE  CHRISTMAS." 

Christmas  meeting  and  joy  a  real  foretaste  and  token  of  the  many 
long  years  you  are  to  pass  "as  fellow-heirs  together  of  the  grace 
of  life." 

But  why  has  this  long  silence  come,  with  no  letter  written  you  or 

her?    Well,  let  me  try  to  tell.    The  first  week  in  December  N 

was  sick  in  bed.  Of  cours'e  all  our  little  Christmas  preparations  had 
to  wait.  Then,  just  as  that  week  closed,  came  a  note  from  my  dear 

old  friend's  son,  F D (of  Honolulu),  saying  he  was  not 

well,  and  wanted  to  come  home;  and  he  turned  to  ours  as  the 
home  next  his  own,  so  far  away.  He  left  last  Tuesday.  How 
much  we  all  enjoyed  his  visit !  He  seemed  somehow  in  your 
place.  He  goes 'home  for  a  year  next  summer,  then  hopes  for  a 
year  in  Germany  to  perfect  in  languages,  then  back  for  a  theologi- 
cal course  in  a  New  York  seminary  (Presbyterian),  and  then  to 
Japan  or  China  to  translate  and  preach  the  Gospel.  What  a 
marked-out  career!  Ah,  how  many  tread  the  path  they  mark  out 
for  .their  feet?  Seldom  do  we  do  just  what  we  think  we  shall  in 
youth's  young  dreams!  Each  soul  has  the  lesson  to  learn  sooner 
or  later,  " It  is  not  in  man  that  walketh  to  direct  his  steps."  .  . 


DELAWARE,  January  9,  1873.    ., 

I  have  been  trying  to  find  the  leisure  to  reply  to  your  welcome 
letter  of  December  18.  Christmas,  always  a  busy  season,  this  year 
had  added  cares  and  calls  upon  me.  To  help  through  this  dull 
business  season  the  children  concluded  to  give  up  our  faithful  ser- 
vant, and  divide  all  household  work  among  them.  With  H 

and  M in  school,  and  J with  her  father's  books  in  the 

store,  N and  I  are  kept  very  busy  indeed,  finishing  the  odds 

and  ends  the  others  leave  undone. 

H d  came  home  for  Christmas  week,  and  we  were  "all,  all 

here,"  but  the  little  lamb  waiting  in  the  Good  Shepherd's  bosom. 
It  was,  perhaps,  the  very  happiest  Christmas  of  my  life,  the  crown- 
ing joy  being  the  presence  of  the  four  oldest  children  with  me  at 
the  Lord's  table.  Oh,  may  He  keep  them  unto  the  end,  faithful 
unto  death!  Our  Christmas-day  was  quiet;  no  guest  but  Uncle 
.  We  determined  to  signalize  this  "panic  winter"  by  keep- 
ing a  "  Love  Christmas,"  our  presents  to  be  love  only.  So  under 
this  motto  were  hung  the  nine  stockings,  and  he  who  found  the 


A   ROSY   PLAN.  247 

leanest  stocking  had  secured  the  largest  share  of  love,  of  course. 
But  despite  our  best  laid  plans  there  seemed  no  one's  stocking  full 
of  love,  the  dear  children's  busy  fingers  and  loving  hearts  finding 
about  the  usual  display  of  tokens. 

What  a  charming  Thanksgiving  you  must  have  had!  Indeed, 
dear  J.,  I  can  and  do  readily  believe  all-  you  tell  me  of  your  pre- 
sent happiness.  God  has  set  His  seal  of  approval  and  blessing 
upon  "the  holy  estate,"  entered  into  in  His  fear,  looking  up  to  Him 
for  guidance  and  blessing.  Earth  sees  no  purer  happiness  than 
they  know  who  are  thus  bound,  "  With  hands  entwined  to  lift 
their  being  higher." 

DELAWARE,  January  20,  1873. 
MY  DEAR  J. : — 

We  did  chat  over  your  pleasant  "whole  story,"  reading  and  re- 
reading your  letter.  Much  was  said;  the  last  words  were  your 
good,  quiet  uncle's,  "Well,  tell  J.  I  only  hope  he  may  have  as 
much  happiness  as  I  have  had."  Dear  boy,  we  like  all  your  rosy 
plan  but  one  part,  and  that  must  be  changed.  We  will  not  make 
any  changes  now,  but  if  "the  best  laid  plans  of  mice  and  men  gang 
aft  aglee,"  of  course  bad  plans  will  change.  So  we  all  believe  you 

and  F will  surely  see  this  aunt,  uncle,  and  cousins  before  you 

get  home  from  the  June  festival.  June  is  the  time  to  visit  Dela- 
ware, not  cold,  dreary  December,  so  much  too  far  off.  And  then 
I  am  in  the  mother's  place,  and  you  must  let  me  see  and  welcome 
first  of  all  your  bride.s  Of  course  this  will  come  about;  I  feel  sure 
of  it. 

Never  mind  being  poor,  that  is  nothing;  "a  man  's  a  man  for  a' 
that."  Two  people,  loving  truly,  can  help  each  other  in  every 
way.  The  "holy  estate"  has  God's  blessing.  Nevermind  how 
much  wise,  far-sighted  man  may  grumble  over  the  folly  of  young 
people  "beginning  with  nothing."  He  who  watches,  caring  for 
the  tiny  sparrow  and  her  nestlings,  so  that  not  one  can  fall  without 
His  will,  won't  He  provide  for  all  the  need  of  His  children? 


248  AN    INVITATION. 

This  letter  is  addressed  to  Miss  C.,  the  "  friend"  of  her  nephew:  — 

DELAWARE,  April  20,  1873,  First  Sunday  after  Easter. 
My  DEAR  F.: — 

When  you  reach  where  I  stand  in  years  and  family  cares,  you 
will  think  of  Aunt  Jennie  and  say,  "Ah,  yes,  I  know  now  very 
well  why  she  did  not  write  the  letters  she  wished  to."  Your  sweet 
letter,  so  satisfying  to  my  heart  in  every  way,  has  been  just  before 
me  ever  since  it  came, — its  claims,  and  my  desire  to  reply.  I  will 
not  cover  my  paper  telling  why.  '  You  will  believe  me,  trust  me, 
love  me,  just  as  if  I  was  your  good,  regular,  corresponding  auntie  ! 
You  may  as  well  learn  early  that  Aunt  Jennie  does  nothing  in  a 
regular,  proper  time  or  way;  and  just  take  her  for  what  she  is, 
trying  to  forget  what  she  is  not. 

I  miss  our  dear  N very  much.     We  had  to  change  our  home 

this  spring,  too ;  and  my  hands  and  heart  have  been  full,  indeed. 
J.'s  J.  will  be  here  directly,  and  I  had  to  steal,  as  you  see,  some 
Sunday  time,  to  beg  you  to  assert  your  right  and  power  over  him 
to  change  his  plans  for  the  day  (rather  the  days  following),  so  that 
we  shall  have  you  both,  as  our  own  dear  children,  with  us  soon 
after  the  marriage  as  possible.  I  claim  this.  He  must  bring  you 
to  rest  (for  one  or  two  weeks,  if  possible)  with  us,  as  if  in  his  own 
mother's  house.  Do  convert  him  to  this  arrangement,  and  slip 
away  from  your  own  home  right  here,  without  stopping  once  by 
the  way. 

DELAWARE,  May  8,  1873. 

Divers  letters  from  you  must  have  been  lost  on  the  way  to  us, 
for  we  cannot  pick  up  the  thread  of  your  intentions  at  present,  and 
make  it  join  where  your  last  letter  broke  off.  Please  bind  together 
for  us,  "  My  house,"  "  fairly  under  way,"  "  to  be  ready  by  ist  of 
June  !"  You  have  found  that  pot  of  gold  surely,  and  I  am  so  glad 
I  like  the  beginning  after  the  good  old  fashion,  standing  shoulder 
to  shoulder,  accepting  every  care  and  burden  that  comes  with 
"the  holy  estate."  Where  there  is  independence  of  mind,  wil- 
lingness to  live  for  each  other's  happiness,  just  slipping  into  every 
circumstance  of  that  "station  in  life  into  which  it  has  pleased  God 
to  call"  us,  with  all  the  unselfishness  of  true  love,  then  almost  Eden 


PLEASANT   SURPRISES.  249 

happiness  is  found  again  on  earth.     Now  this  is  true,  for  I  have 
tried  it. 

God,  our  covenant-keeping  God,  bless  you  and  yours  more  and 
more,  until  you  come  into  His  heavenly  kingdom. 

DELAWARE,  June  2,  1873. 
MY  OWN  DEAR  J. : — 

Hurrah  ! 

Now  I  had  to  begin  just  that  way  to  get  "  hurrah  !"  out  of  mind, 
for,  I  declare,  ever  since  your  last  letter,  with  plan  for  the  little 
house,  with  "guest-room,"  "closets,"  "  yard  with  small  fruits," 
etc.,  I  have  just  wanted  to  call  out,  "  Hurrah,  J.  !" 

How  pleasant  it  all  looks !  Dear  boy,  don't  be  afraid  to  look 
at  and  dwell  upon  pleasant  things.  Life  here  may  be  a  vale  of 
tears  :  what  are  tears  but  the  drops  that  make  the  rainbow?  There 
is  a  smile  hid  away  behind  every  tear,  if  man  would  only  learn  how 
to  look  for  it.  Life  is  full  of  pleasant  surprises  in  our  heavenly 
Father's  own  keeping.  He  opens  His  hand  and  bestows  them 
upon  every  prepared  heart,  wherever  He  sees  good  things  cannot 
harm.  What  good  life  of  joy,  peace,  and  love  has  been  Aunt 
Jennie's  !  Yet  have  there  been  no  tears? 

I  am  so  glad,  so  very  glad,  you  are  to  be  no  longer  the  lonely, 
motherless  boy.  "For  this  cause"  a  wife  is  more  than  mother, 
sister,  all.  God,  our  covenant-keeping  God,  bless  and  keep  you 
both,  and  make  you  only  a  blessing  to  each  other ! 

DELAWARE,  July  28,  1873. 
MY  DEAR  J.  AND  F. :  — 

Right  glad  were  we  all  to  get  a  peep  at  you  both,  through  the 
lines  of  i6th  July,  /believe  "honeymoon  month"  has  least  sun- 
shine in  it  of  all  the  married-life  year.  So  the  first  year  of  adjust- 
ing to  each  other  is  the  one  hardest  year.  After  that,  all  the  ins 
and  outs  of  each  other  being  fully  settled,  side  by  side  life  runs  on 
and  on,  more  and  more  a  mirror  of  the  rest,  peace,  and  happiness 
of  the  life  beyond  the  River. 

Her  nephew  and  Miss  C.  were  married  at  C.  L.,  Iowa,  in  June 
preceding  the  date  of  this  letter.  They  resided  in ,  Michi- 


250  SUMMER   CARES AUTUMN    QUIET. 

gan,  until  June,  1877,  when  they  removed  to  a  more  Western 
State,  where  he  accepted  the  Chair  of  History  and  English  Lan- 
guage and  Literature  in  the  State  University, — thus  fulfilling  his 
aunt's  second,  almost  prophetic,  choice,  of  life-work  for  him, — 
teaching. 

DELAWARE,  March  i,  1874, 
Second  Sunday  in  Lent. 

.     .     .     .     N wants  you  all  to  come  to  her  wedding  before 

very  long.  She  has  promised  to  go  this  spring.  You  ask  how  I 
am  to  get  on  without  this  dear,  ministering  child  ?  Ah  !  I  do  not 
yet  see.  For  a  long  time  I  felt  too  selfish  ;  but,  to  see  her  content 
and  happiness  over  her  new  hopes  and  plans,  has  fairly  driven 
away  every  feeling  but  thankfulness  for  her  joy.  Surely,  one  who 
has  so  faithfully  "borne  the  yoke  in  youth,"  will  be  cared  for, 
and  blessed  with  His  own  best  blessing.  She  wants  only  the  most 
simple,  quiet  wedding  at  home,  with  only  nearest  relatives  present. 

DELAWARE,  Sept.  n,  1874. 
MY  DEAR  J. : — 

This  is  your  dear  mother's  birthday,  and  it  must  not  fully  close 

before  I  say  a  few  words  about,  her  grandson,  "J.  A.  C ." 

Why  it  seems  but  as  yesterday  morning  that,  after  a  long,  very 
anxious  night,  waiting  and  watching  for  "first  tidings"  in  the  little 
Rectory  dining-room,  I  was  at  last  invited  to  see  the  mother  and 
boy  baby.  So  near  to  death  had  come  the  life  most  precious  to 
me,  I  almost  had  hard  thoughts  toward  the  baby,  and  meant  to 
only  steal  in  for  a  kiss  to  the  mother,  with  little  notice  for  the  new- 
comer. But  before  the  door,  sitting  erect  on  a  neighbor's  lap,  with 
great  brown  eyes  wide  open,  fixing  themselves  upon  Aunt  Jennie, 
as  if  just  waiting  and  watching  for  her  appearance,  was  your  lord- 
ship. I  never  shall  forget  my  first  sensations !  , 

You  wonder  why  I  have  so  long  delayed  my  thanks  for  baby's 
picture.  I  am  fast  becoming  an  old  lady,  and  letter-writing  gets 
crowded  out  of  daily  duty  easily.  The  truth  is,  this  summer  has 
been  too  full  of  absorbing  cares  and  anxieties.  Now  autumn  quiet 
has  come,  and  with  it  the  time  and  inclination  for  writing. 

Three  weeks  ago  dear  N came  flitting  home  "just  to  see 

mother,    because   she   heard  she  was  not  well."      Then  H 


WILLING   TESTIMONY.  251 

joined  her,  and  one  Sunday  we  were  all  together  in  God's  house, 
and  all  around  the  family  board  and  family  altar. 

In  the  confusion  incident  to  moving  to  a  new  home  most  of  the 
letters  after  this  date  were  lost — but  to  the  day  of  her  death  not  a 
letter  lost  its  charm  or  beauty.  Her  nephew  and  his  wife  loved  this 
aunt  most  sincerely,  and  the  news  of  her  death  was  a  heavy  blow. 
They  bear  most  willing  testimony  to  the  wonderful  depth  and  rich- 
ness of  her  affectionate  sympathy,  and  to  the  purity  and  all-pervad- 
ing power  of  her  spirituality.  "  She  was  not  of  us  though  with  us," 
they  write,  "a  child  of  God  who  ever  walketh  with  the  Father,  a 
spirit  among  the  stars  though  seemingly  mortal.  Truly,  of  such  is 
the  Kingdom  of  Heaven." 


252  REV.    DR.    BEDELL. 


-XX. 

"They  that  feared  the  Lord  spake  often  one  to  another." 

Correspondence  with  Mrs.  E.  Bedell  Benjamin — Valued  letters — Bright  points  of 
light — Bible  studies — Raven's  food — Pictures — A  white  raven — Home  pictures. 
1871  to  1875. 

CORRESPONDENCE  WITH  MRS.  E.  BEDELL  BENJAMIN. 

Parts  of  this  correspondence  are  wanting,  But,  as  the  sense  is  not 
impaired,  it  is  given  as  it  now  stands. 

Mrs.  Benjamin  is  the  daughter  of  that  eminent  man  of  God,  the 
Rev.  G.  T.  Bedell,  D.D.  His  memory  is  still  dear  to  many  yet 
living,  who  listened  to  his  earnest,  soulful  preaching  from  the  pulpit 
of  old  St.  Andrew's,  Philadelphia.  Of  this  church  he  was  the  be- 
loved Rector  from  May,  1822,  until  August,  1834,  when  he  entered 
into  rest.  He  was  also  the  father  of  Bishop  Bedell. 

Mrs.  Platt's  early  associations  with  Dr.  Bedell  gave  her  an  espe- 
cial interest  in  his  daughter.  She  loved  to  speak  of  those  early 
days,  when  her  sisters  and  brother  James  were  members  of  St. 
Andrew's  as  well  as  herself,  when  it  was  their  privilege  to  be  in- 
structed in  Gospel  truth,  and  in  the  way  of  holy  lives,  and  to  talk 
together  of  the  words  that  fell  so  lovingly,  and  yet  with  such  clear 
convincing  power. 

FROM  MRS.  E.  B.  BENJAMIN  in  answer  to  a  request  for  Mrs.  Platt's  letters. 

MR.  CYRUS  PLATT: — 

DEAR  SIR:  If  I  have  any  of  Mrs.  Platt's  letters  they  are  in  Strat- 
ford, at  our  country  home.  We  shall  return  there  in  a  few  days, 
and  I  will  immediately  examine  my  papers,  and,  if  I  have  preserved 
the  letters,  will  send  them  to  you  without  delay.  Those  that  I  re- 
ceived were,  I  think,  during  a  long  illness,  and,  it  is  possible,  may 
not  have  been  kept.  Of  this  I  cannot  be  sure  till  I  return.  They 


PRAYER    FOR    HELP.  253 

were  very  gratifying  to  me,  and  I  remember  were  placed  among 
papers  "to  be  kept"  ;  so  that  I  hope  I  shall  find  them  as  I  labelled 
them. 

A  memorial  of  Mrs.  Platt  will  be  not  only  a  comfort  to  her 
immediate  friends,  but  valuable  to  the  Christian  world.  You  are 
probably  aware  that  I  had  never  seen  Mrs.  Platt,  at  least  not  to 
remember  her.  though  she  had  some  recollections  of  me  as  a  child. 
But  her  character  as  a  woman  and  a  Christian  is  one  of  the  bright 
points  of  light  in  this  dark  world.  It  was  a  privilege  to  have  her 
so  long  with  you,  and  a  greater  one  that  she  will  be  yours  forever. 
Pardon  me  for  venturing  on  so  sacred  a  subject,  and  believe  me 
truly  your  friend, 

E.  BEDELL  BENJAMIN. 
NEW  YORK,  April  24,  1879. 

FROM  MRS.  E.  B.  BENJAMIN. 

STRATFORD,  CONN.,  May  6,  1879. 
Mv  DEAR  MR.  PLATT: — 

As  soon  as  possible  after  my  return  I  looked  for  Mrs.  Platt's  let- 
ters, as  requested,  and  found  them  safely  preserved.  In  re-reading 
them  they  seem  to  need  some  explanation  even  to  you,  for  the  kind, 
loving,  and  encouraging  tone  my  dear  friend  used  to  me  may  seem 
strange;  also  the  calling  of  herself  my  "Raven."  Perhaps  you 
recall  all  the  circumstances,  but  as  I  cannot  know  that,  I  will  make 
my  story  as  short  as  possible. 

I  never  knew  Mrs.  Platt,  and  do  not  remember  to  have  seen  her, 
though  I  have  a  faint  memory  of  a  Martha  Hulme,  who,  in  my 
childhood  days,  stood  for  my  idea  of  a  saint.  Your  dear  wife  must 
have  had  the  same  characteristics.  I  judge  this,  not  only  from  her 
letters,  but  from  the  exquisite  little  picture  she  sent  me.  I  never 
saw  any  other  photograph  with  such  an  illuminated  expression.  A 
halo  of  divine  love  seemed  to  rest  upon  it. 

Our  correspondence  began  in  this  way  :  Once  on  Christmas  eve, 
probably  in  '71  or  '72,  I  felt  weary  and  discouraged.  The  Christ- 
mas work  had  tired  me,  and  I  prayed  that  night  for  direct  help 
and  for  some  encouragement,  that  I  could  not  fail  to  understand. 
I  do  not  recall  the  words,  only  the  feeling.  Like  many  others,  I 


254  PRAYER    ANSWERED. 

forgot  my  prayer,  for  I  had  no  direct  answer.  Three  weeks  passed ; 
then  I  took  up  the  "  Standard  of  the  Cross,"  and  in  it  was  the 
kindest  and  most  satisfactory  notice  of  my  "  Eleven  Months  in 
Horeb,"  expressing  thanks  to  me  for  it.  I  did  not  know  who 
wrote  it;  but  was  transfixed  with  self-reproach  when  I  read  the 
editor's  note  :  "  This  was  sent  seventeen  days  ago,  but  was  strangely 
delayed  in  the  mail."  It  must  have  been  written  immediately  after 
my  prayer  for  encouragement,  and  delayed,  perhaps,  to  try  my 
faith.  I  expressed  my  feelings  about  it  in  the  lines  which  you  may 
have  seen,  beginning — 

"  Not  a  sparrow  falls  without  your  Father," 
Christian,  read  that  written  word ; 
Say  not  thy  Father  hath  not  heard 

Thy  prayer; 
It  is  there,  there ; 
And  He  will  answer  in  His  time, 
Not  thjne. 

The  lines  had  no  merit,  except  as  expressive  of  the  feeling  that 
had  taken  such  possession  of  me.  I  concluded,  poor  as  they  were, 
to  send  them  to  the  paper  through  which  God  had  answered  me. 
When  I  sent  them,  I  asked  Mr.  French  to  whom  I  was  indebted 
for  the  notice  of  my  book.  He  sent  me  Mrs.  Platt's  name  and 
address.  The  next  mail,  after  the  publication  of  the  notice,  brought 
me  thanks  for  the  lines  from  one  of  God's  people  in  Ohio,  who, 
too,  had  been  weary  and  discouraged,  and  to  whom  they  spoke  in 
her  time  of  need.  As  soon  as  another  mail  could  bring  me  a  letter 
from  Wisconsin,  another  Christian  wrote  me  a  similar  letter  of 
thanks.  Both  these  writers  were  strangers  to  me,  and  I  may  never 
see  them  till  we  can  talk  with  unhesitating  faith  in  the  land  of  joy. 
All  these  incidents  were  so  remarkable  that  I  think  I  mentioned 
them  in  a  letter  I  at  once  wrote  to  Mrs.  Platt.  To  me  the  fact  of 
a  person  being  a  Christian  is  all  the  introduction  I  need.  I  wrote 
and  talked  to  her  as  to  a  friend,  sure  of  sympathy.  Her  lovely 
reply  you  will  find  among  the  letters.  From  that  time  she  called 
herself  my  "Raven."  She  had  brought  me  the  food  I  needed 
from  the  Lord's  full  treasury. 

Then  because,  I  suppose,  of  my  antecedents — in  my  father  and 
mother — dear  Mrs.  Platt  seemed  to  have  very  exaggerated  views 


RAVENS'  FOOD.  255 

of  my  attainments,  both  as  a  Christian  and  a  writer.  She  asked 
for  all  I  had  written.  I  believe  I  sent  her  some  leaflets  and  a 
child's  story.  But  how  far  beneath  her  I  felt  in  her  manifest 
nearness  to  her  Saviour,  the  life  of  consecration  to  Him,  her  beau- 
tiful life  of  care  and  her  ministry  of  love,  as  developed  naturally 
in  her  letters  !  During  our  correspondence  I  was  ill — four  or  five 
years  of  illness — from  the  effects  of  a  sudden  fright,  producing 
congestion  of  the  brain,  etc.,  so  that  I  could  by  no  means  keep 
up  such  a  correspondence  as  I  desired.  But  my  "Raven"  never 
neglected  me  ;  the  Lord's  food  often  came  in  sweet  words  of  help. 

The  news  of  her  death  came  to  me  very  suddenly.  Even  now 
I  cannot  bear  to  think  of  what  it  must  have  been  to  miss  her  sweet 
presence.  My  thoughts  were  much  with  you  at  the  time,  but  I  do 
not  remember  to  have  written.  Perhaps  you  feel  as  I  do  when  a 
dear  Christian  goes  home;  I  recall  our  Lord's  words,  "If  ye 
loved  me,  ye  would  rejoice,  because  I  go  to  my  Father."  Ah,  it 
takes  great  love  to  rejoice  when  one  has  gone,  but  I  try  to.  Then 
I  always  fancy  the  circle  that  will  gather  around  father  and  mother, 
and  give  them  tidings  of  their  children.  And  when  one  has  gone 
whom  I  have  seen  recently,  I  am  glad  to  think  how  delighted  dear 
mother  will  be.  And  now,  my  friend,  as  one  and  another  joins 
the  throng  of  redeemed  saints,  will  you  not  think  how  your  own 
bright,  beautiful  treasure  will  watch  for  those  who  will  bring  her 
tidings  from  her  home?  Such  thoughts  seem  to  bring  me  nearer 
to  those  whose  life-work  is  over.  Last  winter  I  hoverd  on  the  very 
threshold ;  I  thought  I  should  soon  be  with  them  all.  It  was  an 
experience  for  which  I  am  thankful.  The  Lord  must  have  had 
work  for  me  to  do  here,  as  I  was  brought  back  again  to  do  a 
Raven's  work  to  those  who  need  me. 

I  had  no  idea  of  giving  you  so  much  to  read.  Mrs.  Platt's  let- 
ters to  me  may  not  be  suitable  for  publication,  but  you  will  enjoy 
reading  them.  Please  remember  me  to  "Nellie,"  whom  I  saw  once. 

Extract  of  a  letter  to  MRS.  BENJAMIN  from  MR.  PLATT. 

The  photograph  you  allude  to  has  been  admired  as  a  picture, 
more  than  any  other  ever  taken  by  the  artist,  as  he  informed  me, 
and  has  been  widely  sought  for.  About  a  week  previous  to  her 
last  sickness,  sitting  in  her  place  at  the  table,  engaged  in  animated 


256  HEAVENLY    BEAUTY. 

conversation,  her  face  shone  with  a  more  than  usual  radiant  bril- 
liancy that  seemed  to  come  from  above,  and  I  regretted  afterwards 
not  having  given  expression  to  the  thought,  "My  dear,  you  are 
really  becoming  more  beautiful  as  you  grow  older."  Little  did  I 
think  the  bright  and  beautiful  face  before  me  was  so  soon  to  shine 
with  much  greater  brilliancy  in  the  realms  of  glory. 


This  called  from  Mrs.  B the  following  response: — 

May  26,  1879. 
MY  DEAR  MR.  PLATT: — 

Thank  you  for  your  most  interesting,  double  letter!  Every 
word  about  your  wife  is  of  exceeding  interest.  How  wonderful 
must  be  the  halo  that  now  rests  upon  her  brow !  Our  ideas  of 
perfect  beauty  must  fall  so  far  short  of  the  reality  that  I  ask  some- 
times whether  the  fair  for.ms  and  fair  earth  that  seem  so  lovely  to 
us,  are  so  also  to  the  on-lookers. 

But  I  really  have  no  time  to-day  to  let  my  pen  run  on  in  con- 
verse with  a  Christian  friend.  Of  course  use  the  letters  in  any  way 
you  see  fit.  I  wrote  the  long  explanation  to  make  them  plainer  to 
you.  Any  part  of  our  intercourse  is  at  your  service.  I  rejoice  to 
think  that  we  shall  have  some  records  of  so  lovely  a  life 


FROM  MRS.  BENJAMIN  TO  MRS.  PLATT,  in  answer  to  a  proposal  that 
she  should  adopt  two  children. 

March  10,  1872,  281  4th  Ave.,  N.  Y. 

Thank  you,  dear  Raven,  I  don't  want  any  little  boy  and  girl. 
I  said  to  Fred  just  now,  "  Dear,  I  've  had  an  offer  of  a  little  boy 
and  girl  to  bring  up;  when  would  you  like  to  have  them?  "After 
I'm  dead,"  was  the  reply;  "  but  excuse  me  now."  I  have  one 
darling,  precious  boy,  whom  I  undertook  to  so  shield  from  evil 
and  overwhelm  with  good,  that  I  thought  he  would  be  perfect. 
But  I  cannot  do  the  same  work  for  the  little  ones  you  recommend 
to  my  care. 


A    STORY.  257 

I  sent  to  your  daughter  to  come  to  me,  for  I  do  not  leave  my 
sofa.  I  hope  she  will  come.  I  cannot  write  much  while  lying 
down.  Thank  you  for  your  trouble.  I  have  a  theory  about  a 
deeper  meaning  to  it  than  I  have  dared  to  express,  because  I  do 
not  find  sufficient  authority.  Sometime  I  hope  to  develop  it.  But 
I  will  leave  it  to  you,  your  kind  words  about  the  Horeb,  and  the 
reception  of  this,  show  me  that  you  will  find  out  all  that  is  in  it. 

I  am  going  to  send  you  a  little  package  by  express;  in  it  you 
will  find  a  copy  of  the  "Church  in  the  Wilderness,"  in  which  I 
have  corrected  one  or  two  typographical  errors;  with  the  greatest 
care  they  crept  in.  By  this  copy  you  can  correct  those  that  you 
use.  Then  you  will  also  find  an  old,  worn  book,  which  is  my  copy 
of  Horeb,  with  the  badly  written,  contracted,  confused  notes  of  my 
study  for  the  class,  who  reviewed  it  after  it  was  published.  Please 
do  not  lose  it;  I  value  it  as  a  record  of  past  days.  If  of  no  help, 
do  not  try  to  decipher  it;  but  if  it  will  be,  in  your  present  teaching, 
I  shall  make  no  farther  apologies,  only  ask  you  to  make  use  of  it 
and  to  return  when  finished,  or  whenever  you  can  spare  it.  I  have 
some  idea  sometime  of  adding  notes  to  the  Horeb,  and  then  shall 
want  these  memoranda. 

Also  I  send  a  set  of  questions  which  I  wrote  for  the  Sunday- 
school  of  a  friend,  who  wanted  something  easier  and  more  thorough 
than  the  introductory  notes  of  the  Horeb;  they  might  help  you,  as 
review  questions.  Lastly,  I  have  a  story  to  tell  you  confidentially 
about  a  few  lines  which  I  inclose 

Now  for  my  story.  I  tell  you  as  one  Christian  friend  may  speak 
to  another.  Last  Christinas  eve  I  was  so  utterly  wearied  with  the 
selection  and  putting  up  of  many  presents,  that  when  I  tied  the 
last  package,  I  felt,  as  I  suppose  all  women  do  sometimes,  that  life 
and  its  tasks  were  more  than  I  cquld  endure, — a  want  of  something 
to  help.  And  so  I  prayed  for  some  bright,  pleasant  thing  to  come 
to  me  personally,  because  I  was  tired  of  taking  care  of  everybody. 
It  was  a  childish  thought,  but  a  part  of  the  "story."  The  next 
day  was  a  bright  and  happy  Christmas,  and  I  thought  perhaps  that 
was  my  answer;  but  it  did  not  satisfy  me.  Then  in  a  day  or  two 
I  forgot  all  about  it,  like  other  sinners.  Nearly  three  weeks  after 
I  took  up  the  "Standard  of  the  Cross,"  and  read  your  lovely 
notice  of  my  little  Horeb  book.  That  was  the  sort  of  help  I 
wanted,  the  very  best  kind,  to  know  that  I  was  working  for  my 
17 


258  COMMUNION    OF   SAINTS. 

Master.  I  read  that  the  notice  had  been  seventeen  days  in  the 
mail  !  and  I  had  forgotten  to  watch  for  the  answer  to  my  prayer  ! 
It  must  have  been  written  very  soon  after  the  weary  night  when  I 
wanted  help.  Shall  I  thank  you,  or  the  Holy  Spirit,  who  put  it 
in  your  heart?  I  cannot  tell  you  what  it  was  to  me,  nor  how  I 
reproached  my  faithless  heart.  "  Not  a  sparrow  falls  without 
your  Father"  came  in  my  mind.  I  thought  of  my  childish  prayer, 
how  it  had  been  cared  for  and  answered,  and  so  the  words  came 
to  me  which  I  send  to  you.  I  wrote  many  verses,  and  after  a  little 
hesitation  selected  four,  and  sent  them  to  the  "Standard,"  which 
had  been  the  medium  of  my  help.  I  put  E.  B.  B.  as  usual,  not 
thinking  any  one  knew  of  those  being  my  initials.  In  a  few  days 
a  letter  came  from  a  Christian  friend  in  Ohio,  whom,  like  your- 
self, I  have  never  seen,  thanking  me  for  them;  they  were  just 
what  she  needed,  so  she  said.  The  next  day  a  letter  came  from 
Wisconsin,  from  another  Christian  friend,  also  personally  a  stranger, 
thanking  me  for  them. 

This  is  my  story,  dear  friend.  When  your  letter  came  I  deter- 
mined to  tell  you,  for  now  I  know  I  have  another  friend  for  both 
worlds.  Oh,  how  wonderful  is  this  communion  of  saints  !  We  do 
not  need  to  see  each  other  here ;  the  soul-sympathy  is  founded  on 
our  union  with  the  Lord.  "  Y.e  in  me,  and  I  in  you;"  "this  is  my 
commandment,  that  ye  love  one  another." 

You  loved  mother,  too !  dear,  precious,  faithful  mother.  I 
think  I  will  put  in  the  package  some  lines  that  I  said  to  her  one 
wakeful  night,  when  the  moonlight  just  enabled  me  to  distinguish 
her  features  in  a  superb  portrait  I  have  of  her  by  Huntingdon. 

This  is  the  third  sheet,  and  I  must  stop.  You -will  understand 
all  this,  I  know. 

FROM  MRS.  BENJAMIN. 

NEW  YORK,  Nov.  24,  1871. 
MY  DEAR  MRS.  PLATT:  — 

I  hardly  know  where  to  begin  to  thank  you  for  your  kind  sym- 
pathy in  my  beloved  studies.  Your  second  expression  of  it  came  to 
me  yesterday,  and  made  me  very  thankful  that  the  work  of  my  little 
book  has  begun.  It  is  such  a  privilege  to  help  in  the  study  of  the 
Scriptures.  It  is  a  duty  so  delightful,  so  interesting,  so  fascinating, 


A    NEW   REVELATION.  259 

that  I  have  a  daily  thanksgiving  that,  in  my  little  corner  of  the 
vineyard,  among  the  humblest  of  the  laborers,  there  is  a  continual 
feast.  When  I  once  begin  on  my  one  theme,  "  Christ  Jesus  every- 
where, from  Genesis  to  Revelation,"  it  is  hard  for  me  to  stop.  My 
second  book  has  been  a  long  time  in  following  the  first,  because, 
like  the  other,  it  was  written  in  weekly  lessons  for  my  Bible-class, 
printed  on  single  sheets  for  their  use,  then  revised,  corrected,  re- 
written, verbal  notes  added,  and  so  prepared  for  publication.  It 
gives  a  more  thorough  set  of  questions,  for  you  see  I  find  out  what 
has  been  blind,  unnecessary,  or  confused,  and  what  needs  expla- 
nation, but  it  takes  a  long  time All  this  accounts  for 

the  tardy  appearance  of  the  "  Sequel  to  the  Horeb."  It  is  a  more 
difficult  book  than  the  other,  because  the  subjects  are  more  diffi- 
cult ;  but  I  think  that  a  class  who  have  been  through  the  first  one, 

will  have  no  trouble  with  the  second My  case  is  a 

little  different;  for,  thanks  to  a  loving  Father,  who  knows  the  need 
others  have  of  my  good  spirits,  I  have  no  depression.  I  have 
rarely  felt  happier  than  since  rest  has  become  a  duty.  My  sofa- 
life — two  months  now — is  a  new  revelation  to  me ;  so  many  dear 
friends,  so  many  loving  letters,  so  much  tenderness,  I  do  not  at 
all  understand  it;  but  simply  accept  everything,  and  thank  Him. 

I  was  rather  overworked  with  headwork,  which  took  away  my 
strength.  And  then  in  September  I  had  a  fright  in  church — a 
sudden  crash  just  behind  me — too  long  a  story  to  tell;  it  literally 
finished  me.  I  have  never  felt  able  to  sit  up  since,  though  I  strug- 
gled for  four  months.  In  January  I  sent  for  my  present  physician, 
who  said  I  ought  to  have  "given  up"  at  the  time.  My  neck,  which 
was  injured  in  the  accident,  is  not  allowed  yet  even  to  try  to  hold 
my  head  up.  He  expects  to  cure  me;  meanwhile  I  enjoy  a  great 
deal.  I  cannot  do  anything  much,  but  see  a  few  friends,  write  a 
little,  read  a  little,  etc.  I  dare  not  go  into  the  subjects  of  your 
letters.  The  only  photograph  extant  of  past  years  was  taken  when 
I  was  twenty,  and  has  been  photographed  from  a  daguerreotype. 
It  was  taken  for  a  friend,  whose  sister  I  had  been  with  in  her  last 
illness;  he  wanted  to  have  the  two  together. 

Then  I  send  a  fright,  which  a  travelling  photographer  took  of 
me,  sitting  by  my  desk  where  my  books  grew,  with  back  to  my 
balcony  window.  The  bookcase  was  mother's,  and  stood  in  her 


260  HOREB — SEARCH    THE    SCRIPTURES. 

room  in  New  York,  as  also  the  chair  in  which  I  am  seated.  That 's 
all  I  can  send — no  calm,  fair  St.  Andrew's  look  like  yours. 

I  carry  your  little  notice  in  my  porte-monnaie,  and  when  I  feel 
faithless  I  read  it.  I  have  often  wanted  to  tell  you  how  much  good 
you  did,  but  hesitated  because  I  had  to  say  so  much  about  myself. 
You  will  forgive  that  part,  I  know.  Mr.  French  told  me  who 
wrote  it. 

Now,  my  dear  friend,  may  our  Father  have  you  in  his  holy 
keeping,  and  '•' perform  all  your  petitions." 

A  copy  of  Mrs.  Platt's  notice  of  Mrs.  Benjamin's  Question  Book 
herein  referred  to,  from  the  "  Standard  of  the  Cross,"  January  27, 
1872. 

"ELEVEN  MONTHS  IN  HOREB." 

To  THE  EDITOR  OF  "  THE  STANDARD  OF  THE  CROSS"  : — 

In  some  of  the  recent  issues  of  your  paper  is  an  advertisement  of 
Mrs.  Benjamin's  Question  Book,  "  Eleven  'Months  in  Horeb." 

I  want  to  commend  this  book  to  other  households.  For  more 
than  a  year  it  has  most  pleasantly  marked  our  Sunday  afternoons. 
In  a  family  Bible  class  we  have  found  it  all  and  much  more  than 
Bishop  Bedell's  prefatory  note  claims,  though  we  used  it  in  the 
most  simple,  unstudied  manner,  making  it  the  text-book  for  the 
entire  family.  We  can  never  forget  these  pleasant  household 
gatherings  with  the  little  learners  scarce  able  to  read,  and  tempo- 
rary guest  and  "stranger  with  us;"  so  voluntary,  too,  and  seeming 
full  of  interest,  and  all  the  interest  due  the  book  alone,  not  to  the 
leader  at  all. 

No  previous  study  was  enjoined.  Each  brought  his  Bible  with 
any  book  of  reference  he  chose  (but  the  Bible  is  enough).  The 
author  in  these  "Questions"  opens  "The  Book,"  "  Searches  the 
Scriptures,"  unfolds  the  plan  of  salvation,  and  brings  out  to  clear 
view  the  "Leader  of  the  Hosts  of  Israel,"  in  a  simple,  natural 
manner,  level  to  the  comprehension  of  all.  The  mere  turning  of 
"The  Sacred  pages" — searching  for  the  multiplied  "references," 
familiarity  with  God's  Word,  is  surely  gain.  The  theme  of  these 
Lessons  is  new,  and  it  is  wonderful  what  freshness  and  attractive- 
ness "Eleven  Months  in  Horeb"  brings  for  the  unstudied  study  of 


ANOTHER   WORLD.  261 

the  Bible,  and  proves  that  "all  Scripture  is  profitable  for  doctrine, 
for  reproof,  for  correction,  for  instruction  in  righteousness." 

SUBSCRIBER. 
SUNDAY  AFTER  CHRISTMAS,  1871. 

FROM  MRS.  .PLATT  TO  MRS.  BENJAMIN. 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  : — 

How  worthless  a  Raven  for  a  correspondent !  Nothing  "proper" 
can  be  expected.  A  Dove-friend  would  have  sent  a  word  of  thanks 
for  the  picture,*  if  she  could'  not  write  a  long  letter.  All  this 
time,  from  the  tenth  of  March,  I  have  just  been  hoping  for  the 
moment  to  thank  you.  With  so  many  sorrowful  letters  that  must 
be  written,  promising  dear  N.'s  help  in  so  many  ways,  the  pleasant 
rest  and  change  that  writing  to  you  always  is,  never  came.  Your 
Raven's  life  has  been  caged  about  with  many  circumstances  not  of 
her  own  choosing,  but  His  that  "chooses  our  changes,"  and  means 
love  in  every  appointment.  Does  not  God  grant  to  every  child  of 
His  some  loving  life-teacher,  to  walk  beside,  to  check,  and  guard, 
and  keep  from  evil?  Straitened  circumstances  he  chose  for  me. 
This  has  been,  no  doubt,  a  hedge  against  many  an  evil  (to  me),  and 
the  bestower  of  countless  good.  I  can  see  this  even  now,  without 
waiting  for  the  hereafter. 

When  my  eye  rested  upon  the  picture  "before  the  desk,"  with 
all  the  beautiful  home-surroundings,  I  said,  in  delight,  "Another 
world  !  Just  my  beau  ideal !  But  God  arranged  for  both  ;  she 
cannot  be  happier."  I  am  sorry  for  the  bad  taste  that  calls  my 
picture  a  "  fright."  But  is  it  my  picture?  The  "  little  girl"  face, 
as  I  remember,  has  not  changed  at  all ;  never  a  baby  face,  but 
earnest  and  thoughtful  as  a  child,  as  this  other  picture  of  "twenty 
years."  I  am  delighted  with  all  my  pictures;  and  I  have  a  new, 

fresh  one,  that  you  have  never  seen This  glimpse 

came  in  a  note  from  my  dear  N.  Mr.  Benjamin  can  fill  it  out, 
doubtless ;  so  can  I. 

N.  wondered  I  had  not  told  her  of  my  pictures.  This  is  why : 
I  wished  her  to  see  ray  friend  without  any  preconceived  fancy,  so 
I  didn't  allude  to  the  last  letter  and  pictures.  Her  call  was  de- 
layed ;  she  was  sick.  She  did  not  tell  me  a  word  about  your 

*  Mrs.  B.'s  photograph. 


262  A    SOFA    LIFE. 

health.  I  hope  warm  May  breezes  will  greatly  help  your  case, 
and  the  "  sofa-life"  be  ended  ;  yet  He  knows  best.  Can  one  write 
and  do  more  for  Him,  say  any  words  more  for  His  honor  and 
glory,  than  this  record  of  a  "  sofa-life"  ?  "I  simply  accept  every- 
thing, and  thank  Him."  I  thank  Him,  too,  for  grace  so  mani- 
fested. 

You  do  not  need  my  two  poor  little  children,  if  you  have 
already  "one  darling,  precious  boy."  ....  Something 
else  I  want.  Some  day,  when  one  of  those  "dear,  good,  minis- 
tering friends"  sits  by  your  sofa,  asking,  "What  can  I  do  for  you?" 
say  first  this :  "A  lady  begs  me  to  tell  her  of  all  that  I  have  writ- 
ten. She  knows  I  ought  not  to  write  much,  and  wants  one  of  my 
friends  to  give  her  the  names  of  my  books  for  children,  etc.  etc. 
Take  this  pencil  now,  and  I  will  tell  you."  Dear  Mrs.  Benjamin, 
cannot  you  do  this?  Do  you  not  often  write  for  the  "  Parish  Visi- 
tor"? I  sometimes  think  so.  « 

If  all  these  many  weeks  have  passed  without  a  letter,  constantly, 
almost,  are  you  in  my  thoughts.  Your  old  "question  book"  is 
such  a  help.  The  young  girls  look  for — "  This  is  Mrs.  Benjamin's 

comment 3"   "Mrs.  B suggests  this,"  etc.  etc.     It  is  simply 

that  old  book — His  help  sent  an  old  teacher,  unfit  and  unable  to 
study  for  herself.  We  are  only  over  the  2ist  Lesson  !  More  and 
more  I  like  the  book,  its  plan  of  Bible  study,  bringing  the  Saviour 
always  before  us,  opening  the  whole  Bible  fresh  and  full  of  Him. 
Even  with  such  a  teacher  these  young  learners  never  tire  of  this 
searching  the  Scriptures.  Can  you  spare  the  book  any  longer  ? 

Surely,  in  this  very  letter  I  should  return  the  "  only  photograph 
extant  of  past  years." 

Your  loving,  grateful  Raven, 

J.  H.  P. 

DELAWARE,  OHIO,  May,  1872. 

FROM  MRS.  PLATT. 

DELAWARE,  OHIO,  Nov.  18,  1872. 
DEAR  MRS.  BENJAMIN  : — 

I  am  sure  you  would  be  pleased  with  the  family  greeting  of  your 
"New  Question  Book"  this  morning,  The  advertisement  had  not 
been  noticed  in  the  "  Churchman"  yesterday.  Without  a  Bible- 


ELIJAH'S  RAVENS.  263 

class  teacher's  gifts  or  calling  (though  once  your  dear  mother's 
pupil),  I  was  induced  lately  to  begin  a  Bible-class  .for  young  girls, 
aged  eighteen  or  nineteen.  I  could  think  of  no  question-book  so 
easy  and  pleasant  as  "Eleven  Months  in  Horeb."  We  had  tried 
it  in  our  family  in  a  simple,  unstudied  way,  through  a  year  of  de- 
lightful Sunday  afternoons,  the  father  being  class-leader, — so  sorry 
when  through  the  last  lesson,  and  unable  to  unite  upon  any  other 
book  to  follow  it.  Again  and  again  it  was  said,  "  If  only  Mrs. 
Benjamin  would  write  another  !" 

Then  I  began  the  Sunday-school  Bible-class,  glad  to  go  back 
over  the  book,  with  some  study,  if  possible.  We  have  had  over 
two  months'  lessons,  and  not  yet  quite  finished  the  fourth  lesson, — 
so  suggestive  is  the  book,  even  in  a  poor,  untrained  teacher's  hand. 
"The  Journeyings  of  the  Children  of  Israel"  has  been  made  such 
help  and  comfort  to  me,  I  felt  that  these  dear  children  must  stop 
and  understand  all  I  could  teach,  and  not  pass  along  so  fast  through 
the  introductory  lessons.  Only  yesterday  we  turned  back  to  the 
last  questions  of  the  fourth  lesson,  looking  at  the  manifestations  of 
His  gracious  presence  with  the  journeying  people,  and  comparing 
Num.  ix. ,  15-23;  Psalms  cxxi. ,  and  xlviii.,  14,  etc.  To  an  old 
pilgrim  what  a  beautiful  and  precious  picture  of  truth  is  Num.  ix., 

iS-23  ! 

But  I  only  intended  to  write  one  word  of  our  thanks  and  welcome 
for  "The  Church  in  the  Wilderness."  When  this  morning  my 
daughter  called  out,  "Mother,  mother,  here  is  a  notice  of  another 
book  like  'Eleven  Months  in  Horeb!''  She  was  answered,  "I 
am  so  glad ;  I  was  going  to  write  and  beg  Mrs.  Benjamin  to  give 
us  a  question-book  on  the  Journeyings  of  the  Children  of  Israel." 

FROM  MRS.  PLATT. 

DELAWARE,  Dec.  10,  1872. 
DEAR  MRS.  BENJAMIN: — 

How  can  I  thank  you  for  all  the  kind  words  said,  and  the  express 
package?  The  letter: — Elijah's  ravens  could  not  know  their  mis- 
sion, nor  be  made  glad  and  thankful  that  God  used  them;  but  then, 
Elijah  saw  them,  doubtless,  and  said,  "Only  ravens!"  and  they 
were  spared  the  discomfort  of  being  taken  for  soaring  eagles. 
Your  "old  book,"  full  of  critical  notes  and  valuable  records,  all 


264  CHURCH    IN    THE    WILDERNESS. 

you  say  of  my  power  of  appreciation  and  "sympathy  in  your  be- 
loved studies,"  show  you  do  not  know  your  Raven.  While  most 
grateful  and  thankful,  I  ought  to  say,  for  my  own  comfort,  that  I 
am  no  teacher,  no  student — am  only  what  an  impulsive,  untrained, 
unreflective  nature  has  been  taught  by  all  His  gracious  lessons  by 
"the  way,"  over  a  path  fifty-five  years  long.  Nothing  ever  learned 
from  study  of  books,  no  culture,  no  wealth,  no  position — but,  this 
is  your  Raven. 

The  glad  tears  will  come  when  I  think  what  God  made  that  little 
notice  in  the  "Standard"  say  to  you.  Your  sweet  "story"  shows, 
indeed  One  is  always  near  to  hear  and  answer,  "  knowing  our 
frame,"  ever  "remembering,"  and  "touched"  with  our  every 
want  and  need. 

You  cannot  know  how  your  little  verses  spoke  to  me.  "On  my 
own  text!"  I  exclaimed,  when  I  first  saw  them  in  the  "  Standard" — 
the  "sparrow-doctrine,"  as  I  called  it.  Oh,  what  help  and  com- 
fort has  not  that  text  been  to  me !  How  many,  many  times  have 
I  tried  to  show  its  help  to  others!  Could  you  spare  a  few  copies 
to  give  away?  Should  not  a  sparrow-doctrine  fly  abroad? 

I  will  be  very  careful  of  the  "old  book."  It  must  greatly  help 
with  my  class.  Please  send  for  it,  if  needed  before  we  finish 
"Horeb."  Looking  to  the  second  volume  we  can  leave  "the 
journeyings,"  and  hasten  on  now.  The  "easier  questions"  would 
have  been  such  help.  Having  never  taught  a  Bible-class,  nor 
written  questions,  I  wanted  such  questions  so  much.  I  am  tempted 
to  prove  the  need  by  showing  you  (if  I  can  find  a  page)  my 
"Introductory  Questions!"  (They  must  make  you  smile,  indeed.) 
The  questions  were  to  bring  to  the  children's  notice  what  I  wanted 
them  to  know,  no  matter  how  asked — tired  Saturday  evenings' 
work  for  the  morrow. 

Thanks  for  the  corrected  copy  of  "The  Church  in  the  Wilder- 
ness." just  begun  in  our  Sunday  afternoon  family  class.  It  is,  I  am 
sure,  just  what  we  need,  and  we  like  it  so  much.  How  I  wish  I 
could  say  what  it  is,  so  as  to  induce  others  to  try  its  help. 

Would  that  little  "  Standard"  notice  you  like,  said  over  in  better 
words  by  you,  do  any  good  now  in  the  "  Churchman"?  I  know 
nothing  of  such  matters — cannot  "write."  Sometimes  the  heart 
has  to  speak,  not  the  head. 

The  moonlight  lines  to  your  sainted  mother — what  a  beautiful 


EDWARDS'S   REDEMPTION.  265 

picture  came ! — the  restless  sleeper  and  the  speaking  portrait  in  the 
moon's  soft  veiling.  And  old,  old  pictures,  too,  so  fresh  and  bright 
of  other  days,  so  distinctly  can  I  recall  that  mother's  sweet,  earnest 
face,  and  the  face  of  the  little  daughter — long  buried  pictures,  yet 
now  fresh  before  me. 

May  I  again  speak  of  my  class?  (Shut  up  to  only  nursery  work 
for  twenty-four  years,  Sunday-school  work  seems  so  full  of  fresh 
interest  now.)  With  intelligent  Christian  mothers — several  edu- 
cated in  a"  church  seminary,  and  communicants  in  our  church — yet 
not  one  knew  of  the  first  promise  of  a  Saviour,  and  "thought  Jesus 
began  His  work  for  man's  redemption  when  born  in  Bethlehem." 
There  have  been  so  many  changes  and  plans,  and  "improved"(?) 
methods  in  the  Sunday-school,  but  have  children  been  taught  the 
Bible? 

And  now,  dear  Mrs.  Benjamin,  what  are  you  going  to  do  next? 
Did  not  little  sparrows  once  suggest?  May  I  tell  the  theme  for 
your  next  book?  I  want  "Edwards's  History  of  Redemption"  to 
suggest  all  I  would  say.  Could  not  this  be  made  a  question  book, 
showing  his  views  of  truth,  or  portions  of  his  views,  so  far  as  sus- 
tained by  Scripture,  giving  texts  and  explanatory  notes,  like  your 
other  volumes,  with  "  The  Desire  of  all  Nations,"  or  "Shiloh"  for 
the  book's  name?  I  am  not  acquainted  with  Edwards's  works. 
When  a  young  girl,  I  read,  not  studied,  this  one  book  of  his  (pub- 
lished by  the  American  Tract  Society,  I  think).  I  had  not  opened 
it  for  thirty  years,  when  I  borrowed  it  from  our  minister  upon  be- 
ginning my  class.  Since,  I  have  been  longing  to  ask  you  to  try  to 
do  something  with  it  for  the'  young  of  our  day;  for  a  glance  at  it 
now  shows  how  its  grand,  clear  views  of  truth  touched,  strength- 
ened, guided,  and  held  my  faith  through  all  these  long,  long, 
chequered  years.  I  had  almost  forgotten  this  old  book — did  not 
know  what  it  had  done  for  me.  It  may  be  that  there  is  already 
some  book  for  the  young,  covering  this  ground,  showing  His 
"salvation  from  generation  to  generation,"  "the  work  of  redemp- 
tion a  work  carried  on  from  the  fall  of  man  to  the  end  of  the 
world,"  as  Edwards-  says.  Recently  a  popular  young  D.D.  (a 
visitor)  told  us  in  his  sermon,  in  substance,  that  "scarcely  any- 
thing of  God  was  taught  in  the  old  Dispensation,"  "that  He  was 
almost  left  vindictive  in  character,"  etc.,  until  Jesus  came  and  the 


266  MY    IDEAL   OF    HEAVEN. 

apostles  preached!  As  if  the  glory  and  "light"  of  him  to  come 
did  not  flood  the  Old  Testament! 

Now,  will  you  not  think  over  my  desire  about  the  old  book? 
And  can  you  excuse  all  this  freedom?  (Are  Ravens  proper 
birds?) 

There  is  another  kind  of  work  on  my  heart  for  you.  May  I 
some  time  tell  you  of  it? 

I  trust  the  winter  in  the  city  may  be  a  great  restorative.  Very 
tenderly  must  the  blessed  Master  watch  over  His  tired-out  laborers. 
How  closely  He  comes,  what  words  He  whispers  to  the  face 
"turned  to  the  wall!"  So  may  He  ever  watch  and  bless  you! 

With  grateful  love, 

Your  Raven  friend, 

JEANETTE  H.  PLATT. 

FROM  MRS.  BENJAMIN  TO  MRS.  PLATT. 

281  FOURTH  AVENUE,  NEW  YORK,  Jan.  3,  1873. 
MY  DEAR  FRIEND  : — 

I  can't  fancy  you  quite  a  Raven,  though  you  did  indeed  feed 
me  when  I  cried  for  food.  How  often  I  have  thanked  you  !  Now 
I  thank  you  again  for  your  kind  letter,  which  I  received  the  day 
after  I  had  sent  the  messenger  after  my  book.  Such  a  dreadful- 
looking  old  book  !  I'm  so  glad  it  may  help  you,  and  I  sent  to-day 
the  leaflets  which  you  wanted,  with  some  of  another  kind. 

Thank  you  for  the  picture  ! — a  dear,  lovely  face,  bearing  a  sort 
of  St.  Andrew's  impress,  with  no  mark  of  "twenty-four  years  of 
nursery  work."  I  wish  I  had  one  to  return,  but  I  have  not  had 
one  taken  for  years. 

So  far  I  wrote  the  day  after  yours  came  ;  then  I  was  called  away, 
and  have  not  been  well  enough  since  to  write  at  all.  I  wish  I  could 
follow  your  suggestions  about  the  questions ;  the  plan  you  propose 
is  very  interesting,  though  I  am  not  familiar  with  the  book,  and 
therefore  could  not  follow  your  idea  entirely.  But  I  can  do  no 
more  until  I  recover  from  a  sort  of  nervous  prostration,  which  pre- 
vents either  work  or  pleasure.  I  am  just  to  keep  still,  mind  and 
body.  It 's  considerably  harder  than  working ;  for  my  ideal  of 
heaven  has  never  been  rest,  but  strength  to  work.  I  have  not 
attained  the  beautiful  devotional  strength  of  the  wounded  soldier  :  — 


BIBLE    STUDIES.  267 

"  I  am  not  eager,  bold, 

Nor  strong, — all  that  is  past; 
I  am  ready  not  to  do, 
At  last,  at  last. 

"  My  half  day's  work  is  done, 

And  that  is  all  my  part ; 
I  give  a  patient  God 
My  patient  heart ; 

"And  grasp  His  banner  still, 

Though  all  its  blue  be  dim ; 
These  stripes,  no  less  than  stars, 
Lead  after  Him." 

That  seems  to  me  the  height  of  patient  love.  If  we  only  could 
remember -that  God  does  not  really  need  our  work  !  He  can  do 
without  us. 

All  I  can  do  at  present  is  to  finish  a  children's  story,  which  was 
to  have  been  out  for  Christmas,  but  which  is  not  yet  completed. 
It  is  simple,  just  a  happy  home-picture.  I  believe  those  melan- 
choly saints  of  children  are  monstrosities.  Thank  you  again  for 
all  your  kindness  about  my  books.  I  do  think  a  few  lines  from 
you  in  the  "Churchman,"  or  in  any  religious  paper,  would  help 
very  much.  Unfortunately  the  books  are,  as  Rev.  Dr.  Lundy  says, 
"what  teachers  call  hard."  They  do  not  seem  so  to  me,  because 
they  can  be  taught  superficially  or  closely.  A  friend  of  mine  .often 
took  two  or  three  lessons  each  Sunday,  and  galloped  through  the 
"  Horeb"  at  railroad  speed,  saying  it  was  one  of  the  easiest  books 
she  had  ever  seen. 

I  liked  your  questions  extremely,  but  am  not  quite  sure  about 
"When  was  the  term  of  man's  life  shortened?"  (Gen.  vi.,  3).  After 
studying  that,  I  remember  that  I  decided  that  it  meant  that  there 
should  be  one  hundred  and  twenty  years  before  the  flood,  during 
which,  doubtless,  offers  of  mercy  were  made  to  the  world.  I  may 
be  wrong,  but  Methuselah  only  died  the  year  of  the  flood.  Abram 
lived  one  hundred  and  seventy-five  years,  Isaac  one  hundred  and 
eighty,  etc.  The  first  redeemed  soul,  I  suppose,  was  Abel ;  and 
the  idea  of  the  interest  of  the  angels  is  beautiful.  You  believe, 
then,  that  the  angels  and  redeemed  souls  have  intercourse  before 
the  final  bliss  of  heaven  ?  I  suppose  there  is  some  intercourse,  but 


268  FRIENDS    FOR    BOTH    WORLDS. 

you  know  the  saints  are  not  yet  in  full  reception  of  the  promise 
(Heb.  xi.,  39,  40). 

I  have  just  re-read  your  letter.  It  tells  a  different  story  of  my 
Raven, — different  from  what  she  tells  of  herself.  Thank  you  for 
it  all,  dear  friend.  I  will  read  Edwards's  book.  But  why  will  not 
you  do  the  work  you  propose  to  me,  and  which  I  wish  I  could  do  ? 
What  is  the  other  thing?  And  will  anything  make  question-books 
pay  their  expenses  !  The  plates  of  my  last  cost  $428  ;  when  will 
thirty-five  cents  a  copy  pay  even  for  paper  and  binding?  And 
even  if  I  could  afford  to  pay  expenses,  would  it  be  the  best  ex- 
penditure of  so  much  money?  Is  it  not  melancholy  to  bring  dol- 
lars and  cents  into  notice  when  one  only  desires  to  work  for  Jesus? 

I  must  stop.  I  would  gladly  hear  from  you  again,  though  I  may 
not  be  able  to  reply ;  for  I  ought  really  to  take  all  my  strength  to 
finish  "Brightside  :  from  Christmas  to  Easter."  We  shall  meet 
some  time  and  talk  it  all  over,  when  we  shall  know  why  we  were 
held  back  in  this  life. 

Very  truly  your  friend  for  both  worlds, 

LILLY  B.  BENJAMIN. 

FROM  MRS.  PL  ATT. 

DELAWARE,  Whitsunday,  June  I,  1873. 
MY  DEAR  FRIEND: — 

You  often  seem  very  near,  and  I  want  to  speak  with  you.  To- 
day, when  coming  home  from  Sunday-school,  with  Bible  and  the 
precious  old  question  book  in  my  hand,  I  felt  I  must  tell  you  again 
how  much  I  owe  for  the  loan  of  this  book, .and  how  much  we  all 
owe  the  author  of  "  Horeb."  Suggestions  rather  than  questions — 
a  kind  of  lamp-like  power  shining  upon  Scripture  truth,  giving  out 
to  the  most  thoughtless,  unlearned  eye  that  looks,  gleams  of  hidden 
precious  spiritual  meaning. 

I  have  not  time  to  copy,  and  the  notes  and  comments,  etc.,  seem 
more  the  author's  right  from  her  own  "old  book."  Shall  you 
mind  if  the  back  comes  back  to  you  a  little  more  worn  and  worsted, 
thus  going  about  doing  good  in  the  Master's  name?  If  you  could 
only  look  in  upon  and  know  this  little  western  class  of  six  and  their 
teacher,  you  might  despair  of  your  book,  or  any  book  for  study 
helping  them: — often  no  previous  study,  perhaps  the  question-book 


BLESSED   WORK.  269 

not  opened  at  home ! — bright,  intelligent,  educated(P)  girls  of  seven- 
teen and  eighteen  years.  (Western  material  must  be  taken  as  it  is.) 
Now,  is  not  this  the  question  for  your  comfort,  dear  Mrs.  Benjamin? 
— if  this  question-book,  prepared  as  loving  service  for  the  Master, 
can  interest,  help,  and  bless  in  such  a  class,  what  may  it  not  do 
when  properly  used,  under  favoring  circumstances  and  by  skilful 
teachers?  To-day  we  had  the  28th  Lesson,  "Our  Saviour."  I 
wish  you  could  have  looked  upon  the  sweet/ young,  earnest  faces, 
as  their  Bibles  were  searched  and  the  precious  references  read. 
Will  you  not  pray  for  this  little  class,  that  the  Spirit  of  all  grace 
may  accompany  and  bless  more  and  more  your  questions,  that  the 
"Eleven  Months  in  Horeb"  may  be  to  each  one  the  beginning  of 
a  new  life  of  love,  joy,  peace,  and  trust  in  their  risen,  loving,  living 
Saviour?  They  are  all  communicants,  of  our  church.  Soon  all 
will  be  out  on  life's  stream  in  earnest,  immersed  in  care  and  re- 
sponsibility. Only  a  passing  moment  are  they  held  through  your 
book  in  a  Sunday-school  Bible-class.  I  cannot  but  believe  these 
"Horeb  Lessons"  will  go  on  and  on  in  blessing,  the  influence 
descending  upon  children's  children.  Yes,  I  hope  all  this,  for  I 
know  the  power  of  early  impressions  upon  the  most  thoughtless 
"  butterfly  nature."  It  was  God  who  put  the  plan  of  this  book  into 
your  heart,  I  am  sure.  Blessed  work !  to  be  the  chosen  hand  to 
open  the  Bible,  turn  its  pages,  pointing  continually  to  "the  Lamb 
of  God  which  taketh  away  the  sins  of  the  world,"  to  eager,  lodging, 
prepared  hearts.  This,  under  God's  blessing,  I  trust,  your  book 
is  doing  here.  Our  Sunday-school  uses  the  popular  "National" 
questions,  but  I  never  want  to  try  to  teach  through  any  other  books 
than  "  Horeb,"  and  its  companion,  "The  Church  in  the  Wilder- 
ness." Indeed,  I  am  so  old  these  teaching-days  seem  a  kind  of 
"borrowed  time."  Were  not  the  priests  set  aside  from  active 
temple-service  after  their  fiftieth  year? 

You  wonder,  perhaps,  how  we  like  the  second  volume?  Now 
and  then  we  have  been  able  to  have  our  Sunday  afternoon  lessons. 
We  hope  to  begin  in  earnest  after  dear  N.  comes  home.  She  is  in 
Philadelphia  now. 

"  Brightside"  came  to  us.  Many  thanks  for  the  book,  and  still 
more  thanks  for  what  it  is, — "good  children  that  do  not  die,"  and 
all  the  beautiful  home-pictures,  sweet,  good,  loveJy,  yet  common 
enough  and  life-like  to  be  all  true. 


270  A   WHITE   RAVEN. 

Who  wrote  the  ''Pillar  of  Cloud"  verses,  "Just  what  they 
needed,  wonderfully  fitted"? 

Thanks,  too,  for  being  on  my  side,  and  making  Henry  and  Mary 
not  go  to  Sunday-school.  There  may  be  such  a  shady  side  to 
Sunday-schools  that  good  parents  may  keep  their  children  at  home 
(teach  them  themselves),  and  not  sin,  I  think. 

Did  you  ever  see  a  raven  painted  white  ?  Well,  here  is  your 
Raven,  so  pictured  in  her  nest  by  a  loving  young  painter,  that  did 
not  care  to  keep  true  to  nature*  (son  of  a  dear,  old  friend  of  near 
forty  years),  passing  his  Amherst  vacation  with  us  last  Christmas, — 
his  father,  editor  of  the  little  island  paper,  "The  Friend."  "  Dis- 
tance lends  enchantment," — a  white  raven  ! 

I  hope  these  balmy  days  are  making  you  so  much  better.  Whither 
your  summer  flitting,  may. I  ask?  The  Sandwich  Islands  are  "a 
perpetual  May;  no  heat,  no  cold, — the  one  blessed  sunny  spot  of 
this  world,"  my  friends  think Want  to  go  ? 

With  true  and  grateful  love, 

Your 

RAVEN. 


FROM  MRS.  BENJAMIN. 

,  Feb.  7,  1875,  281  Fourth  Avenue,  N.  Y. 

DEAR  MRS.  PLATT  :  — 

I  inclose  one  of  the  few  efforts  I  have  been  able  to  make^  Al- 
though the  word  is  not  well  chosen, — for  this  was  no  "effort," — 
it  simply  came  to  me,  and  I  wrote  it  down.  I  am  still  an  invalid, 
though  nearer  recovery  than  ever  before.  When  you  have  done 
with  that  dreadful  little  note-book,  will  you  please  send  it  to  me 
by  express?  Have  you  tried  the  "Church  in  the  Wilderness"  ? 
I  want  to  know  if  you  like  it?  My  letters  are  limited  to  necessi- 
ties ;  so,  with  love,  I  am  truly  yours, 

E.  B.  BENJAMIN. 


*  Refers  to  a  description  of  herself,  by  F.  W.  D.,  at  the  time  he  passed  his 
Christmas  vacation  with  us.     See  XXII.,  page  285. 


LETTERS   TO   MISS    SNELL.  271 


XXI. 

"  The  lips  of  the  righteous  know  what  is  acceptable." 

Letters  to  Miss  Snell — Treasures  of  friendship — A  Mayflower — Afraid  of  N.  E. 
college  air — New  England  greatness — Nest  robbed — The  mother's  lot.  1873 
to  1874. 

THIS  correspondence  with  Miss  S.  grew  out  of  her  interest  in  F. 
W.  D. — the  son  of  Mrs.  Platt's  Sandwich  Island  friend,  while  he 
was  at  college  in  Amherst.  There  were  numerous  letters  between 
them,  from  which  these  few  extracts  are  taken. 

Mrs.  Platt's  anticipated  pleasure  of  meeting  Miss  S.,  so  frequently 
mentioned,  was  never  gratified. 

AMHERST,  MASS.,  November,  1878. 
MR.  PLATT: — 

DEAR  SIR:  In  answer  to  your  request  just  received  I  forward 
with  this,  those  of  your  wife's  letters  which  I  have  preserved.  It 
is  through  these  alone  that  one  of  my  most  pleasantly  remembered 
friendships  was  made.  I  keep  them  among  the  treasures,  which 
keep  ever  near  me  friends  of  the  past  years,  and  should  dislike  to 
lose  one  of  them. 

If  you  will  return  them,  when  you  have  obtained  what  you  wish, 
I  shall  be  truly  grateful. 

Yours  respectfully, 

S.  C.  SNELL. 


DELAWARE,  OHIO,  March  17,  1873. 
MY  DEAR  FRIEND: — 

Surely  Amherst  must  keep  a  warm,  loving  place  in  my  heart. 
I  would  like  to  meet  you  so  much.  Have  you  no  curiosity  to  peep 
at  Western  people?  Next  summer  when  Professor  Snell  proposes 


272  AM  H  ERST. 

some  little  trip,  can  I  not  persuade  you  to  suggest  Ohio,  to  visit 
dear  Frank's*  "Aunt  Jennie?"  Say  yes,  and  then  I  will  begin  to 
prepare  you  for  the  real  life  we  live;  not  like  dear  Frank's  painted 
pictures.  Do  come  and  see. 

In  a  former  letter  you  wrote  the  "Daily  Food"  text  for  me 
(25th  February),  my  own  birthday  text!  This  little  text-book  has 
been  a  companion  since  my  sixteenth  year.  How  many,  many 
copies  have  bound  dear  friends  to  the  giver;  and  how  many  of 
those  dear  oiies  now  are  with  Him  who  is  the  Bread  of  Life !  So, 
dear  young  friend,  you  came  to  me  filling  one  vacant  place,  using 
my  own  little  book.  May  He  bless  this  little  bond,  and  let  us  be- 
come fellow-helpers  on  the  pilgrim-path  Zionward ! 

DELAWARE,  April  7,  1873. 
MY  DEAR  FRIEND: — 

I  am  so  sorry  I  did  not  talk  to  F more  about  his  dear  Am- 

herst  friends.  •  He  so  often  mentioned  them  as  such  dear,  good 
friends  as  no  other  college  boy  ever  had.  Still,  I  do  not  half 
know  them.  He  read  me  some  Amherst  letters.  A  lovely  letter 
came  the  day  after  his  arrival  in  Delaware;  it  was  directed  in  care 
of  our  postmaster.  Was  not  that  letter  from  my  Miss  S.  C.  Snell? 
(I  took  no  notice  of  the  name,  though  I  remember  well  the  spirit 
of  the  letter.) 

I  do  not  wonder  that  he  seemed  jaded  and  wearied.  Partings 
with  him  mean  much.  I  can  never  forget  his  good-bye  to  us ! 
A  tap  at  my  chamber  door  showed  the  dear  boy  had  rushed  back 
again,  when  some  distance  from  the  house,  once  more  to  say  good- 
bye; and  the  beseeching  words,  "Oh,  Aunt  Jennie!  you  will  not 
forget  to  pray  for  me?"  I  can  well  understand  the  Amherst 
partings , 

You  will  smile  at  my  asking  to  know  what  is  best;  but,  dear  Miss 
Snell, -I  was  born  out  of  New  England,  does  not  that  explain? 
Please  always  remember  this  fact.  I  feel  sure  I  shall  see  you  in 
Delaware,  and  it  may  be  this  very  summer.  You  have  not  yqt 
asked  Professor  Snell?  He  may  come  West  and  leave  you  with 
us  while  he  goes  to  the  Mammoth  Cave  in  July,  who  can  tell?  "In 
a  year  or  two"  your  Western  tour  "may  come  round?"  Ah,  I 

*  Mr.  Frank  W.  Damon. 


NEW  ENGLAND  CULTURE.  273 

dare  not  look  ahead  so  far.     Please  plan  to  see  us  as  soon  as  you 
can. 

DELAWARE,  May  13,  1873. 
MY  DEAR  MAYFLOWER  : — 

You  cannot  help  your  inheritance  of  wisdom,  and  I  cannot  help 
liking  you  in  spite  of  it !  I  guess  this  last  fact  proves  you  some- 
what a  degenerate,  for  I  cannot  even  appreciate  "wise  people." 
I  am  dreadfully  afraid  of  New  England  college  atmosphere.  The 
people  of  those  favored  spots  seem  to  live  in  another  world,  so  far 
above  the  common.  I  have  listened  with  profound  reverence, 
wonder,  and  admiration  to  descriptions  of  their  social  gatherings, 
etc.;  the  kind  of  family  reunions  where  everybody  knew  every- 
thing, where  book  topics,  or  the  world's  passing  events  of  deepest 
nature,  were  playfully  bandied  about,  as  children  would  discuss 
"Mother  Goose's  Melodies."  Dear  me,  is  not  that  truly  another 
world?  Oh  to  be  an  unseen  listener,  with  even  culture  enough  to 
only  half  comprehend  !  Strange  to  say,  after  this,  /  want  to  go  to 
Amherst;  and  I  shall  not  feel  a  bit  afraid  of  Professor  Snell's 
family,  not  one  of  them !  I  put  in  my  plea  of  ignorance,  and  feel 
sure  New  England  greatness  will  cover  all. 

I  made  a  visit  to  Arlington,  Vermont,  last  summer;  I  think  I 
can  never  go  again  so  near  and  not  try  to  see  Amherst.  Many 
thanks  for  the  kind  invitations  to  your  home.  Two  strong  barriers 
are  upon  this  project:  I  am  too  old  to  love  to  travel,  with  poor 
head  for  railroad  vriear;  and — have  "no  money."  Western  people 
generally  have  plenty,  so  I  guess.  We  do  not  belong  East  or  West, 
just  a  little  household  all  by  ourselves. 

I  am  delighted  with  the  plan  of  teaching  in  Minnesota.  A  New 
Englander  never  can  half  appreciate  himself  until  he  stands  upon 
Western  soil,  is  planted,  takes  root,  and  grows  there.  Such  room 
to  grow!  with  God's  sunshine,  balmy  breezes,  nutritious  earth,  as 
can  be  found  nowhere  else.  With  such  room  to  work  for  the 
blessed  Master!  One  single  true  life  lived  among  these  Western 
people,  what  unconscious  influence,  what  power  for  good!  I  hope 
you  will  come;  and  you-  will  never  dare  go  by  us  without  stopping, 
I  am  sure. 

Where  was  the  fit  reply  that  should  at  once  have  thanked  you 
for  your  last  long  letter,  so  very  welcome,  with  the  warm  invita- 
18 


274  A    MAY-FLOWER    BLOSSOM. 

tion  to  our  dear  N ?     We  have  changed  our  home,  and  this 

household  has  been  in  such  confusion  as  your  eyes  never  saw.  Let- 
ters, except  to  absent  children,  had  to  wait.  How  glad  I  should 

have  been  for  N to  see  you  all,  and  dear  F 's  college 

home.  But  this  could  not  be.  She  is  now  in  Philadelphia;  will- 
be  home  early  in  June,  I  hope.  You  speak  of  N 's  visit  to  the 

Amherst  home  as  "quite  a  descent  from  New  York  palaces  !"  Her 
visit  in  New  York  was  with  her  dear  auntie,  whose  life-work  is  the 
care  of  helpless  women  and  poor  children  in  a  Home,  304  Mul- 
berry Street,  once  a  grand  old  house,  but  now  old  and  forlorn, 
situated  in  the  midst  of  want,  misery,  and  sin  of  all  kinds.  But  my 
sister  is  perfectly  happy.  I  wish  that  you  could  call  and  see  her 
work  (St.  Barnabas  House).  .... 

DELAWARE,  September  i,  1873. 
MY  DEAR  MAYFLOWER  :  — 

Does  not  some  invisible  bond  seem  to  keep  you  and  dear  F 

near  each  other?    Your  letters  keep  coming  together.     Both  friends 

greeted  me  through  the  same  mail  last  week I  hope 

"another  moving"  is  not  in  the  needed  discipline  of  the  coming 
year.  A  May-flower  in  March  or  April  would  have  special  wel- 
come, surely.  Do  try  us.  I  want  these  young  girls  to  see  and 
know  what  a  brave  New  England  girl  can  do  when  she  has  a  will. 
Who  can  tell  what  inspiration  may  not  corne  to  us  through  a  May- 
flower blossom?  I  suppose  a  Yankee  girl  knows  exactly  what  she 
can  and  cannot  do.  (They  all  have  wise  mothers,  you  see.)  Here 

are  N ,  J ,  H ,  and  M ,  waiting  for  your  inspiring 

visit,  dear  Mayflower.  Not  one  of  them  is  in  any  "rut."  Could 
they  be  put  in  one,  think  you  ?  We  do  not  think  Miss  Alcott  throws 
much  light  on  "Work"  for  girls,  nor  "  Other  Girls,"  nor  "We 
Girls."  No  ;  we  are  all  just  waiting,  as  I  said,  for  our  one  May- 
flower, to  show  us  all  we  so  much  want  to  know.  You  will  have 
to  come,  now  I  have  so  clearly  shown  this  western  visit  a  duty,  a 
Bible  "opportunity"  (Gal.  vi.  10). 

DELAWARE,  November  24,  1873. 
MY  DEAR  MAYFLOWER  :  — 

Don't  be  frightened  ;  we  will  just  take  you  in  as  "  a  poor  speci- 
men of  a  New  England  girl,"  and  secretly  rejoice  that  you  are 


WELCOME    TO    OHIO.  ,    275 

such,  too,  for  I  am  dreadfully  afraid  of  New  England's  "perfect 
woman,  nobly  planned."  But  why  has  "  niece  Sabra's"  little  letter 
waited  so  long  for  reply,  ever  since  3d  October?  Because  all  let- 
ters have  waited.  Sickness  in  the  family,  and  household  changes; 
early,  severely  cold  weather,  that  always  makes  me  half  sick ;  all 
this  has  kept  me  from  writing  many  letters.  I  wanted  to  respond 
at  once,  and  say  how  glad  we  shall  be  to  welcome  you  to  Ohio. 
Do  tell  us  where  your  home  is  to  be, — how  near  us?  Tell  Mrs. 
Snell  this  is  to  be  the  home  when  you  want  to  rest,  or  if  you  are 
sick  at  all.  We  are  "  plain,  kind  people,"  that  will  take  good  care 
of  you. 

I  am  glad  you  know  something  about  "no  help,"  as  these  panic 
times  and  dull  business  winter  the  children  have  sent  away  our 
good  servant,  and  for  weeks  now  we  have  been  trying  "We  Girls" 
life.  Alas,  that  "we  girls"  in  the  book,  and  "we  girls"  in  Dela- 
ware, Ohio,  should  be  so  unlike  !  You  have  read  the  book  ?  Then 
come  and  see  for  yourself  the  difference. 

I  hope  "Cousin  F."  has  prepared  you  for  Ohio  mud.  How  you 
will  miss  clear,  crisp  New  England  winter  !  Winter  is  the  most 
dismal  time  to  see  Ohio.  But  we  will  try  to  keep  you  warm ; 
though  Ohio  people  never  are  snugly  "  fixed  up"  for  winter,  and 
so  "  freeze  up"  when  the  thermometer  leaps  down  to  14°  or  28° 
below  zero.  Then  likely  the  next  week,  or  sooner,  we  put  up  our 
windows  to  let  in  the  mild  air  and  sunshine  !  So  we  have  variety, 
surely. 

DELAWARE,  October  19,  1874. 
MY  DEAR  MAYFLOWER  : — 

What  a  blossom  you  are  !     You  cannot  know  how  pleased  I  was 

to  see  your  letter  of  October  8th.     I  wrote  to  F this  summer, 

"Oh,  do  not  let  Miss  Snell  forget  'Aunt  Jennie.'  Tell  her  all 
this  time  her  letter  stands  before  me,  in  my  open  desk,  just  waiting 
for  hand-time;  the  heart  made  response  at  once,  long,  long  ago. 
I  do  want  to  meet  her  very  much."  About  the  time  your  letter 
came  an  invalid  cousin  called  for  all  my  time.  She  only  lingered 
a  few  weeks  after  her  return  home.  Then  I  had  weeks  with  neu- 
ralgia, an  old  visitor,  and  the  rest  of  the  winter  was  the  trying  to 
get  back  to  my  usual  strength. 

In  April  my  nest  was  robbed,  and  our  eldest  birdie  was  carried 


276  THE  MOTHER'S  LOT. 

off!  For  twenty-five  years  she  had  been  our  household  help  and 
comfort.  For  a  long  time  before,  and  long  after,  I  had  to  try  hard 
not  to  be  selfish.  Never  sweeter  song  than  Jean  Ingelow's  "Seven 
Times  Six"  :— 

"The  mother's  lot, 
Her  lot  to  bear,  to  nurse,  to  rear, 
To  love — and  then  to  lose." 

But  now  the  dear  girl  is  so  happy  in  her  new  home ;  her  mother 
is  happier,  too,  for  this  nest-stealing  !  Why  do  we  sit  down  in  dis- 
couragement when  we  come  to  a  rough  step  in  our  path  ?  Always 
there  is  the  Helper's  hand ;  always  the  listening  heart  may  hear. 
"Love  is  the  meaning  of  all  He  does  or  permits."  You  smile, 
and  wonder  I  give  all  these  family  details.  Dear  Mayflower,  I 
want  you  to  see  just  why  your  letter  remained  unanswered.  Not 
quite  strong  for  some  years,  though  the  past  year  there  has  been 
less  and  less  strength,  and  letter:writing  almost  ceased,  except  to 
absent  children.  My  "worries"  seem  all  over  (New  England 
people  don't  worry,  I  know) ;  and  I  hope  kind,  true  friends,  will 
let  me  write  to  them,  though  I  have  seemed  so  bad  and  neglectful  ! 
You  are  coming  to  Cleveland  ?  Now  you  will  come  to  Delaware, 

if  possible  ?  Would  I  go  near  Amherst  and  not  look  up  F 's 

"  dear  Miss  Sabra?" 

Ever  found  a  Mayflower  in  October?  Was  it  not  a  rare,  pre- 
cious blossom?  Just  so  I  prize  your  last;  so  kind,  so  very  kind 
to  let  the  little  thread  of  loving  interest  run  on  and  on,  just  the 
same,  over  all  these  silent  months.  Cannot  I  see  and  thank  you 
face  to  face  ? 


HAPPY   CHRISTMAS.  277 


XXII. 

"  He  that  abideth  in  me  and  I  in  him  the  same  bringeth  forth  much  fruit." 

Miscellaneous — Christmas  eve,  Christmas  clay,  a  joyous  season  all  over  the  house 
— A  nice  long  breakfast — F.  W.  D.'s  sketch  of  a  Christmas  scene  in  Ohio — 
Letter  to  Bishop  Bedell — To  President  Merrick — Autumn  of  life — John  S.  Hart 
— Questions  for  the  pulpit — Criticism  of  "  Middlemarch" — "  Sex  in  Education" 
— Letters  to  a  godchild,  with  a  tribute  to  her  brother. 

CHRISTMAS  was  for  Mrs.  Platt  the  most  joyous  season  of  all,  and 
she  ever  entered  into  preparations  for  its  observance  with  all  the 
energy  and  zest  of  her  active  nature — prompted  by  her  warm  and 
generous  heart  to  unusual  efforts,  to  make  every  one  happy ;  her 
skilful  fingers  and  inventive  genius  making  ample  amends  for  lack 
of  means,  in  supplying  love-tokens  for  the  children  and  dear  friends 
whom  she  wished  to  have  remembered. 

She  wanted  all  to  be  "happy"  at  Christmas  (she  preferred  to 
use  the  term  "happy  Christmas"  instead  of  "merry")  and  they 
were  so;  a  happier  family  than  hers  was  not  to  be  found;  and  it 
came  to  be  regarded  as  a  favor  to  be  invited  to  Mrs.  Platt's  Christ- 
mas gatherings,  where  her  own  bright  and  joyous  spirit  diffused 
happiness  and  good  cheer  to  all — herself  the  centre  of  all  attrac- 
tion, because  so  loving  and  kind  to  every  one. 

The  two  following  descriptions  of  Christmas  eve  and  Christmas 
day  were  found  among  her  papers  and  marked,  "Because  about 
the  family  I  would  like  to  arrange  and  copy  for  these  dear  chil- 
dren. Feb.  21,  1877.  Mother." 

"FAMILY  INSPIRATION." 

OAK  GROVE,  Christmas  Eve,  1859. 

Surely  this  is  the  evergreen  season  !  I  had  stolen  on  tip-toe  into 
dear  aunty's  room,  hours  before  she  sent  word — "Come  to  my 
room  before  you  go  to  sleep."  But  the  curly  heads  and  shaggy 


278  "THE  NIGHT  BEFORE  CHRISTMAS." 

locks,  braided  bands  and  first  silken  threads,  blue  eyes  and  brown 
eyes — how  they  had  kept  watch,  as  if  sleep  was  not  to  come  all 
night.  "Mother,  I  cannot  get  to  sleep,."  was  repeated  from  bed, 
couch,  and  crib,  for  baby's  wide-open  eyes  spoke  plainly  as  words 
could  tell,  that  he  knew  this  was  Christmas  eve.  Then  the  finish- 
ing touches  that  "would  take  but  one  minute" — but  how  many 
"  one  minutes"  did  the  little  time-noter  count  all  unheeded  !  Half- 
score  white  rabbits  waiting  for  mother  "just  to  finish" — pink  eyes 
from  the  bead  string  "to  go  where  the  pins  are  stuck,"  with  great 
ears  to  find  their  delicate  -lining  from  the  "pink  tissue-sheet." — 
Balls  wanting  "just  two  more  stitches,"  dolls'  shoes  and  hoods, 
"all  done  but  bows  and  tassels."  Tiny  cloaks  and  aprons  finished 
"all  but  buttonholes." 

Twelve-year-old  fingers  had  helped  till  long  past  bed-time,  and 
countless  little  parcels  had  been  tied  and  marked  amid  much  secrecy 
and  hidings  from  each  other,  as  six  pairs  of  little  fingers  collected 
their  offerings  for  sister  Nellie  to  mark. 

The  Christmas  tree  is  wanting  this  year,  but  Christmas  bower 
and  table,  with  its  snowy  cloth  and  cedar  wreaths,  stand  ready, 
and  now  the  nursery  store  is  collected  and  arranged  for  the  eager 
morning  eyes.  Who  could  tell  all  that  there  is  on  and  about  that 
table ! 

And  the  gathering  continues  until  breakfast  hour  next  morning. 
For  this  table  Hood  and  Holland  sang,  Ruskin  painted,  Taylor 
saw  "Northern  Lights,"  Abbott  told  inimitable  stories,  and  Mother 
Goose  immortalized  herself  in  "Rhymes."  The  sewing  machine 
stitched  dressing  gown,  quilted  hoods,  fastened  gauntlets  on  tiny 
gloves,  bound  slippers,  and  tucked  plaits  up  and  down  baby  aprons. 
Candlesticks  with  candles  that  would  do  to  light  fairies  to  bed. 
Irons  for  dolls'  laundry-work.  Bright  cup  and  spoon — god- 
mother's first  gift  for  "the  first  Christmas,"  with  its  accompany- 
ing gay  rattle,  just  now  held  far  above  more  costly  gifts.  A  glit- 
tering toy  tea  service  and  china  closet  stowed  away  in  box,  with 
its  cotton  and  moss  packings.  Dolly  rolling  in  great  easy  chair  on 
one  side,  dolly  in  her  new  curtained  bed  on  the  other,  with  wicker 
cradle  for  the  third,  "  Mamma's  cup  for  coffee,"  Nellie's  vase  for 
flowers,  aunty's  box  for  matches,  cap  for  grandma,  home-made 
portfolios  for  artists'  efforts  that  will  need  direction — "this  is  a 
horse  and  this  a  dog" — here  a  dappled  cow  on  wheels,  there  a  gray 


IT   WAS   ALL   A   PICTURE.  279 

horse  on  rollers,  and  last  named,  but  to  be  "first  in  estimation, 
under  the  table  Howard's  skates  "for  sister,"  wheelbarrow  for 
Fred,  and  papa's  first  Christmas  gift  to  each  new-comer — the 
•"treasure  box"  of  building  blocks. 

No  mention-  is  made  of  pink-eyed  rabbits,  or  woolly  dogs,  or 
furry  cats,  or  the  little  parcels  of  kitchen-made  cornucopias  filled 
with  candy,  with  their  red  and  blue  ribbons  hanging  out — Jane 
and  Bridget's  contributions — or  the  great  basket  of  ginger  nuts, 
ginger  men,  and  horses.  Above  all,  nurse  has  hung  the  favorite 
nursery  card-picture  of  the  "Infant  Redeemer" — Joseph  and  Mary 
with  the  babe  lying  in  a  manger. 

"Twelve  o'clock"  said  the  hurrying  timepiece,  and  now  the 
mother  stepped  about  once  more  to  see  that  all  was  ready.  One 
moment  at  the  table,  with  heart  too  full  for  words — what  a  store 
of  heart  affections  was  symbolized  there  in  those  "Christmas  gifts  !" 
"Hallowed  and  accepted,"  she  prayed,  "through  the  great  heaven- 
sent gift — we  and  ours; — make  all  these  children'  Thine;  accept 
this  gift  to  Thee."  And  then  dear  old  aunty's*  room  was  stealthily 
visited,  that  light  slumber  might  not  be  broken.  It  would  not  do 
on  Christmas  eve  to  tell  of  the  thoughts  that  came  and  tears  that 
fell  as  the  eye  took  note  about  that  room !  It  was  all  a  picture — a 
picture  of  the  outward  decaying  life,  of  the  inward  never-dying 
soul — the  woodfire  embers  had  been  covered,  the  andirons  drawn 
together,  crossed  with  shovel  and  tongs,  as  I  suppose  New  England 
homestead  fires  were  left  seventy  years  ago,  when  Clara,  "  our 
raven-head,"  was  rocked  asleep  on  the  mother's  knee,  and  while 
father  laid  down  newspaper  for  the  pen  and  paper  to  plan  and  draft 
aircastles  and  airy  fortunes  in  the  "Golden  far-off  West."  The 
sickly  child  that  mused  in  the  old  settle  corner  while  the  others 
talked  and  planned,  and  wished  only  that  she  might  live  to  see 
that  "Land  of  promise."  That  toilsome  journey  was  made  at  last 

*  Her  husband's  aunt  on  the  maternal  side,  the  oldest  child  of  his  grandfather, 
Judge  Wm.  Thompson. 

His  was  one  of  the  "  forty  families"  from  New  England  that  first  settled  in  Wor- 
thington,  O.,  in  1803. 

"Aunt  Clara"  was  a  gentlewoman  of  lovely  disposition,  who, though  so  slight 
in  figure  and  delicate,  yet  survived  all  but  two  of  her  father's  family  of  nine,  living 
to  the  age  of  eighty-one  years. 

She  was  a  frequent  guest  at  our  house,  and  a  source  of  much  pleasure  and  com- 
fort to  Mrs.  Platt. 


280  PEACEFUL   SLUMBER. 

with  head  in  mother's  lap,  while  active  brothers  and  sisters  climbed 
the  mountain-sides  "ahead,"  and  at  every  stopping-place  of  rest 
for  the  burdened  animals  returning  to  the  great  wagon  with  hats, 
hands,  and  aprons  full  of  wood-trophies  for  the  darling  sister. 
"Backwoods"  air  and  cabin  life  put  fresh  vigor  in  the  frame,  and 
the  child,  so  long  and  unweariedly  nursed,  was  spared  to  be  nurse 
for  all  the  family,  and  to  return  again  to  her  native  hills  with  hus- 
band's strong  arm  to  lean  upon,  and  to  "endure  as  seeing  Him 
who  is  invisible"  long  years  of  lonely  widowhood;  spared,  yes 
spared  even  a  little  longer  to  show  to  us  how  beautiful,  how  blessed 
is  old  age,  when  the  Creator  has  been  remembered  from  youth's 
first  days. 

One  glance  at  the  pillowed  head  told  all  this. 

The  rocking-chair  stands  before  the  fire ;  daily  newspapers  (al- 
ways read) ;  the  daily  memorandum-book,  where  the  coldest  and 
the  hottest  days  were  always  noted  ;  the  well-stored  portfolio,  ever 
ready  for  response  to  letters  from  absent  friends;  the  warm  wrap- 
per, with  its  sober  facings ;  the  drab  shawl,  so  smoothly  folded  ; 
everything  laid  away  as  if  "  to-morrow"  might  never  come  for  the 
wearer;  the  Prayer-book,  so  time-worn  ;  and  the  large-print  Bible, 
first  and  last  in  the  hands  each  day,  all  spoke.  But  the  little  table, 
beside  the  bed,  told  why  I  was  to  come.  There  had  been  days  of 
unusual  feebleness,  when  little  feet  had  lovingly  carried  breakfast, 
dinner,  and  supper  to  that  fireside ;  and  all  Christmas  preparations 
had  been  kept  out  of  sight  and  sound  as  much  as  possible.  But 
the  evergreen  season  could  not  draw  nigh  unnoticed  by  that  heart 
so  warm,  and  fresh,  and  true  to  all  that  is  sweet  and  lovely.  The 
trembling  fingers  had  been  busy,  too.  Cushions  and  needle-books 
for  all  the  family  who  could  prize  them,  with  their  softened  shades 
of  drab  and  brown,  quaint  in  color  and  design,  with  bits  of  fringe 
and  tassels,  and  silken  cord  trimmings,  that  might  have  been  used 
for  a  grandmother's  wedding  gown,  and  told  many  a  tale  of  olden 
time.  Here  they  lay,  each  marked  for  the  Christmas  table. 

Peaceful  slumber  !  The  snowy  head,  the  deeply  furrowed  brow, 
the  dimmed  eyes,  what  are  these  but  tokens  of  the  eternal  youth 
soon  to  be  thine  ? 

Twice  blessed  is  this  Christmas  eve,  with  its  two  almost  angel 
guests  !  The  aged  pilgrim  drawing  nigh,  and  the  tiny  voyager  so 
lately  left  the  gates  of  Heaven.  Hearts  never  grow  old.  Love 


CHRISTMAS    EVERYWHERE.  281 

cannot  die.  The  joys,  the  influence,  the  memories  of  Christmas, 
are  they  not  "  evergreen  ?v 

J.  H.  P. 
DELAWARE,  OHIO,  January  17,  1860. 

CHRISTMAS. 

It  is  Christmas  all  over  the  house;  Christmas  all  through  the 

town  !  Down  at ,  where  the  inverted  breakfast  plate  covers 

only  golden  gifts;  round  at  Widow  S 's  cabin  corner,  where 

Benny's  threadbare  stocking  holds  peanuts  and  gingerbread  ;  over 
at  Dr.  G.'s,  where  the  good  father  spares  no  expense  or  trouble 
in  helping  the  children  see  his  fatherland  and  its  Christmas  tree  ; 
Christmas  candles,  and  Christmas  made  merry  half  the  night. 
What  fairy  land  !  Fairies  work,  when  at  last  the  opened  door 
unlocks  a  day's  mystery,  and  music  bids  Christmas  eve  begin. 
The  enchanted  tree,  and  its  moss-side  lake  below,  with  magnet 
swans  and  ducks  floating  about  in  miniature  imitations  of  nature. 
What  do  not  those  children  see? 

It  is  Christmas  morning  even  in  Friend  Levis's*  quiet  mansion, 
where  the  gentle  mother  has  taken  down  from  the  highest  shelf 
the  tiny  cups  and  saucers  of  purest  china,  with  their  curious  little 
teapot, — a  perfect  cauliflower,  with  bright-green  leaflets  covering 
all  but  spout  and  lid  ;  the  play-table,  before  the  parlor  fire,  holds 
all  these ;  and  on  each  plate,  cup,  and  saucer-picture,  are  bits  of 
broken  candy,  nuts,  and  raisins, — grapes  that  have  travelled  many 
a  mile  from  their  warm,  native  clime,  with  doughnut  boys  and 
girls,  fresh-made  yester  eve.  Even  Quaker  schools  are  closed ; 
and,  although  all  outward  observance  is  unseemly,  the  children 
must  have  holiday  ;  and  there  must  be  muffins  for  breakfast,  mince 
pie  and  cranberry  tarts  for  dinner,  and  little  cousin  guests  for  a 
"baby  tea." 

But  here  is  Christmas  in  our  own  hf5me.  Baby,  your  crib  will 
be  overturned,  I  fear,  in  the  general  rush  to  get  mother's  first 
Christmas  kiss.  "  Cannot  wait  to  get  dressed." 

"Softly!  Christmas  will  last  all  day."  Nurse  should  have  a 
dozen  hands, — stockings,  shoes,  and  aprons,  all  to  be  again  and 

*  Of  Burlington,  New  Jersey. 


282  BEAUTIFY    THY    SANCT.UARY. 

again  assorted.  Baby,  you  are  ready  first  to  claim  your  papa's 
kiss.  "We  meet  in  aunty's  room  for  prayers  this  morning;  you 
need  not  bring  the  books ;  all  know  this  morning's  hymn  and 
tune;  all  can  join  in  the  thanksgiving." 

"  Hark,  the  glad  sound,  the  Saviour  comes ; 

The  Saviour  promised  long. 
Let  every  heart  prepare  a  throne, 
And  every  voice  a  song. 

"  Our  glad  hosannas,  Prince  of  peace, 

Thy  welcome  shall  proclaim ; 
And  Heaven's  eternal  arches  ring 
With  Thy  beloved  name." 

To  our  prayers,  O  Lord,  we  join  our  unfeigned  thanksgiving, 
because  Thou  didst  give  Jesus  Christ,  Thine  only  Son,  to  be  born, 
as  at  this  time  for  us,  made  very  man,  without  spot  of  sin,  to  make 
us  clear  from  all  sin.  Therefore,  with  angels  and  archangels,  and 
all  the  company  of  heaven,  we  laud  and  magnify  Thy  glorious 
name,  evermore  praising  Thee. 

Yes,  this  is  "a  nice  long  breakfast,"  H.  See,  that  tell-truth  face 
[the  clock]  from  out  the  ivy  wreath,  almost  time  for  church  !  Never 
mind  snow-shoes;  Father  has  promised  a  ride  to-day.  F.  has  al- 
ready stationed  himself  at  the  lawn  gate  on  the  look-out,  and  H., 
too,  is  ready  now  to  join  him  and  give  directions.  They  shout 
"  the  omnibus  is  coming."  The  boys  get  in.  The  old  ladies* 
will  be  ready,  bonnets  on,  folded  handkerchiefs,  and  prayer- 
books  and  crutch  in  hand.  "  There  is  plenty  of  time;  the  omni- 
bus cannot  turn  in  that  narrow  lane,  but  must  go  around  and  down 
the  other  street  before  it  calls  again  for  you."  "I  will  meet  you 
at  the  church — must  tie  up  a  box  for  aunty  that  the  express-man 
carries  to  some  little  ones  whose  dear  father  is  to-day  suffering 
many,  many  miles  from  home." 

The  church  is  beautifully  decorated,  "the  fir  tree,  the  pine  tree, 
and  the  box  together  to  beautify  the  place  of  Thy  Sanctuary." 
How  sweetly  soothing,  how  full  of  joy  are  these  services!  How 
near  He  comes!  In  the  manger  and  on  the  cross 

"  Was  ever  love  like  Thine." 

*  Referring  to  the  Misses  Bills,  two  old  ladies  well  known,  members  of  the 
church,  who  lived  near  to  us. 


A    CHRISTMAS   DINNER.  283 

H.'s  restlessness  is  quieted,  and  J.'s  wandering  eyes  are  fixed  as 
though  even  they  could  catch  to-day  something  of  the  blessed 
spirit  of 

"  Her  sweet  communion,  solemn  vows, 
Her  hymns  of  love  and  praise." 

Church  is  out,  and  grandma  joins  the  little  flock.  How  they 
press  and  crowd  about  her,  each  eager  to  secure  her  ear  and  whis- 
per of  "the  ride"  in  store. 

Now  grandma,  the  old  ladies  [Misses  B.],  mother,  and  children 
are  all  in,  and  the  "all  ready"  word  is  given.  Rough  roads,  rat- 
tling pannels,  and  clattering  windows,  "all  the  better,  a  thousand 
times  better  than  a  carriage  ride,"  the  majority  (the  children)  de- 
cide, and  the  minority  look  too  happy  to  dissent.  The  crutch  is 
tightly  clasped,  and  grandma's  bonnet  is  held  with  both  her  hands; 
the  young  feet,  despite  all  mother's  steadying,  seem  rather  dancing 
than  having  a  Christmas  ride.  Some,  at  least,  are  glad  when  home 
is  reached. 

Now  the  bower  table  is  visited,  and  grandma's  cap  must  be  tried 
on,  and  packages  that  have  traveled  seven  hundred  miles,  and 
waiting  only  for  her  presence,  are  to  be  opened.  F.  has  read 
his  name,  and  with  puzzled  look  begs  mother  see,  and  say  how 
could  "Sunday  last  all  the  week?"  N.  has  found  a  box  of  winter 
buds  and  flowers  that  the  postman  has  brought  from  her  dear  aunt's 
garden  among  the  beautiful  hills  where  the  Schuylkill  takes  its  wind- 
ing way.  The  mother  gives  one  glance  at  them,  and  sees  again 
her  own  old  home,  close  by  that  spot — its  Christmas  gatherings 
and  old  associations  clustering  around  "The  Eldest" — "Immortal" 
as  are  these  flowrets'  name. 

The  dinner  is  ready,  and  grandma  takes  the  seat  of  honor,  while 
mother  asks  if  she  is  not  proud  to-day;  is  sure  she  may  be.  Dear 
Aunt  Clara  can  leave  her  easy  chair,  and  join  -our  group  at  the 
table.  Only  one  strange  guest  is  present,  and  he,  perchance,  may 
be  even  now  more  than  a  friend  to  one  of  the  three  sisters  opposite, 
dear  orphan  girls  whose  home  is  with  loving  hearts  now  beneath 
our  roof  [the  Misses  Franks].  The  cottage  neighbors — our  guests 
to-day  [the  Misses  Bill] — have  long  been  as  familiar  friends,  so 
attractive  to  our  little  ones  has  been  their  humble  home  with  its 
canary  cage,  rare  garden  flowers,  and  kind  words  of  welcome; 
children  are  never  "in  the  way"  there. 


284  PRECIOUS   MEMORIES. 

Grandma's  "  boys"  are  all  together,  and  mother's  too,  all  but 
baby.  The  Christmas  dinner  table  will  hold  all;  even  playmate 
Charley  has  been  gathered  in. 

One  frolic-making  uncle  and  two  beloved  aunts,  who  best  love 
Christmas  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  "mountain,"  and  one  detained 
by  loving  friends  to  grace  and  cheer  a  motherless  home,  we  do  not 
count  with  us  to-day.  We  cannot  see  them,  yet  do  we  not  feel 
them  here?  And  one  more;  the  soft  loving  eyes  looking  from 
that  life-like  picture  [her  sister,  Mrs.  Canfield]. 

"  The  image  of  the  dead, 
On  whose  calm,  speaking  face 
The  light  of  heaven  is  shed ; 
She  seems  an  angel  guest, 
With  eye  and  brow  of  love, 
Sent  from  the  pure,  the  blest, 
To  lift  our  hearts  above." 

Oh,  what  memories  cling  around  thee,  companion  sister !  Child- 
hood's best  loved,  most  loving  friend.  The  distant  mountain  home 
amid  the  "groves  of  rustling  pines"  to-day  keeps  Christmas  for 
thy  beloved  motherless  ones.  How  my  heart  yearns  for  them. 
Would  that  I  could  count  them  here. 

"  We  are  all  here. 

Each  chair  is  filled — we  're  all  at  home, 
Even  they — the  dead — the  dead  so  dear; 
Fond  memory,  to  her  duty  true, 
Brings  back  their  faded  forms  to  view; 
How  lifelike  through  the  mist  of  years, 
Each  well-remembered  face  appears ; 
We  see  them  as  in  times  long  past ; 
From  each  to  each  kind  looks  are  cast, 
We  hear  their  words,  their  smiles  behold, 
They  are  round  us  as  they  were  of  old. 

We  are  all  here. 

O  then,  that  wisdom  may  we  have 
That  gives  a  life  of  peace  below, 
So  in  the  world  to  follow  this, 
May  each  repeat  in  words  of  bliss, 

«  We  're  all— all  here.'  " 


AN    OHIO    CHRISTMAS.  285 

The  following  description  of  a  Christmas  at  our  home,  by  F.  W. 
Damon,  is  taken  from  "The  Friend"  for  February,  1873,  pub- 
lished in  Honolulu,  by  Rev.  S.  C.  Damon.  F.  W.  D.  was  our 
guest  during  the  Christmas-tide  of  1872-73. 

AMERICAN  HOME  LIFE  AT  CHRISTMAS. 

Miss  Fredrica  Bremer,  in  her  book  entitled  "  The  Homes  of  the 
New  World,"  has  sketched  many  charming  and  delightful  homes 
scattered  through  America,  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Falls  of  Min- 
nehaha,  in  Minnesota.  To  understand  and  appreciate  the  Ameri- 
can people,  it  is  requisite  to  visit  them  in  their  quiet  rural  homes, 
away  from  the  great  centres  of  business  and  lines  of  railroad  travel. 
One  of  our  correspondents  has  briefly  sketched  one  of  these  homes 
situated  in  Ohio,  the  very  heart  of  the  nation,  which  may  be  taken 
as  a  type  of  ten  thousand  such  in  other  parts  of  the  widely  extended 
country.  "Aunt  Jennie"  and  "Little  M."  are  names  we  shall  not 
erase,  because  they  are  too  typical,  although  the  characters  are  not 
fanciful,  for  they  are  like  the  "Oldtown  Folks"  of  Mrs.  Stowe, 
which  are  said  to  be  found  in  every  town  in  New  England.  If  our 
limits  would  allow,  we  might  set  over  against  this  sketch  of  a 
Christmas  scene- in  Ohio,  a  New  England  Thanksgiving  sketch. 

The  family  are  busy  for  the  near-coming  Christmas-tide: — the 
great  Birthday  has  its  meaning  here. 

Christmas  brought  ,  with  a  young  friend  from  Columbus. 

They  managed  to  keep  the  house  very  lively.  The  whole  family 
entered  with  zest  into  all  the  Christmas  festivities.  Christmas  eve 
we  went  \o  service  in  the  prettily  decorated  church,  when  the 
Rector  gave  us  an  excellent  sermon.  Early  Christmas  morning 
we  heard  "Little  M."  singing  carols,  in  her  pure  sweet  voice, 
urging  us  all  to  hurry  for  our  gifts.  Twelve  full  stockings  in  a  row, 
with  a  table  brimming  over  with  presents,  showing  the  love  of  the 
family  in  as  beautiful  a  way  as  I  have  ever  seen  manifested.  '  The 

stranger  within  the  gates'  was  not  at  all  forgotten 

Every  now  and  then  there  would  be  a  ring  at  the  door,  and  an 
express- bundle  incoming,  which  would  call  forth  a  chorus  of  de- 
lighted "Ohs,"  and  "Ahs."  We  were  fairly  flooded  with  pre- 
sents. 

Christmas  morning  service  again  in  the  church,  with  a  Pastoral 


286  TO    BISHOP   BEDELL. 

letter  from  the  Bishop,  who  is  at  present  in  Europe.  We  had 
dressed  the  parlor  and  dining-room  with  greens.  Everything 
said  a  right  "  Merry  Christmas."  The  dinner  was  indeed  bounti- 
ful. "Aunt  Jennie"  beamed  on  us  all  from  her  lovelit  eyes.  Her 
face  is  wonderfully  beautiful  and  refined,  with  its  soft  lines  lighted 
with  the  beauty  of  an  inner  peace  and  harmorty,  set  in  its  framing 
of  natural  curls,  touched  as  yet  only  here  and  there  with  the  silvery 
sheen  of  passing  years,  and  her  voice,  so  sweet  and  tender,  touching 
one  like  music.  I  have  rarely  known  a  mother  who  lived  as  much 
in  her  children.  In  the  evening  our  games  occupied  us  until  the 
hours  were  getting  small  again. 

I  know  you  will  forgive  my  dwelling  so  much  on  this  home- 
picture,  there  is  so  much  of  beauty  in  it.  The  mother  with  her 
girls,  as  bright  and  hopeful  as  the  youngest  of  them.  The  family 
group  in  the  fire-light,  or  busy  fingers  and  bright  faces  over  the 
home-made  Christmas  gifts,  or  the  two  full  pews  at  morning  service. 
— I  cant't  forget  them. 

We  have  a  few  moments,  now  and  then,  for  books  and  authors. 
With  the  business  and  pleasant  homely  cares  of  life,  there  are  such 
aspirations  to  take  the  bright  and  beautiful  things  in  books  and 
music.  The  mother-presence  at  the  head,  guides  and  directs  all. 
We  are  reading  aloud  Owen  Meredith's  "Lucille."  This  morning 
we  have  been  reading  one  of  Edward  Garrett's  quiet  English 
stories. 


DELAWARE,  December  4,  1868. 
RT.  REV.  G.  T.  BEDELL,  D.D. : — 

DEAR  BISHOP:  I  hardly,  indeed  do  not  know  why,  in  listening 
to  your  sermon  last  evening,  the  hearing  was  of  the  present;  the 
seeing,  of  the  long,  long  past.  A  group  of  young  girls,  "  Phoebe," 
"Fannie,"  and  Jeanette,  round  the  evening  study-table,  with  its 
green  cover.  The  "game  of  spelling"  from  the  box  of  alphabet, 
the  terrible  dread  lest  the  poor  speller  should  be  found  out,  in  pre- 
sence of  the  learned  boy-student,  who,  not  condescending  to  notice 
"such  little  girls,"  was  not  so  deep  in  his  book  that  he  could  not 
now  and  then  offer  a  suggestion,  or  give  a  smile  at  some  signal 
failure.  Fresh,  as  yesterday,  the  people  and  appointments  of  the 
simple,  tasteful  Christian,  home  of  that  beloved  pastor,  where  I 


THE    BEARER    OF   GOOD    TIDINGS.  287 

first  saw  my  Bishop,  near  forty  years  ago !  His  father's  church, 
in  its  never-to-be-forgotten  gbrgeousness  to  young  Quaker  eyes 
with  the  massive  columns,  and  drapery  of  purple  and  gold,  and  the 
awe-giving  inscription  over  the  chancel.  Too  young  and  careless 
to  care  for  sermons,  the  speaking  presence  of  the  preacher,  the 
intonations  of  that  most  loving  voice,  in  entreaty  and  warning,  will 
live  forever,  "yet  speaking,"  thus  showing  forth  the  power  and 
honor  the  Master  sometimes  chooses  to  put  upon  "earthen  ves- 
sels." 

Dear  old  Bristol  College,  in  hallowed,  buried  memories,  came 
again,  in  the  cheerful  bustle  of  commencement-day.  The  flitting 
to  and  fro  of  the  important  seniors ;  the  rustic  platform,  and  the 
rustic  crowd  gathered  about  it ;  the  speakers  and  speeches  of  that 
day ;  the  rough  little  ferry-boat,  with  its  over-load  of  young  folks 
carrying  their  picnic  dinners,  to  be  eaten  under  the  campus  trees, 
with  meetings  and  greetings;  the  voices,  the  faces  so  soon  to  pass 
from  earth — what  calls  the  echo,  but  the  one  old  truth,  "  They  e"rr 
who  tell  us  love  can  die !" 

So  remembering  and  listening  last  evening,  I  saw  that  G.  Thur- 
ston  Bedell  of  the  past  was  the  Bishop  before  me;  and  I  wondered 
if  the  Chief  Shepherd  always  sent  with  "the  feet"  made  "beauti- 
ful," bearing  "good  tidings,"  a  cheering  sense  of  the  worth  of 
their  high  mission?  As  if  He  who  watches  and  guides  the  spar- 
row's wing,  could  leave  a  toiling  Bishop's  heart  without  all  needed 
cheer ! 

Coming  from  church  I  heard  again  and  again,  "the  Bishop's 
very  best  sermon!"*  "He  should  preach  that  sermon  in  every 
parish."  May  it  carry  with  it  impressions  for  good,  never  to  pass 
away !  Must  not  this  be  sealed  with  His  promise,  "  My  word  shall 
not  return  unto  me  void?"  Going  about  these  western  parishes, 
never  think  to  measure  the  comfort  and  good  dispensed  by  the 
courteous  greetings  and  words  given  back.  In  the  coldest  parishes 
there  are  many  warm  hearts  that  welcome  their  Bishop's  visits,  were 
the  signs  and  words  wanting?  The  Good  Shepherd's  blessing 
comes  "upon  the  evil  and  the  good."  He  directs  a  bishop's  feet 
to  the  feeding  of  many  a  famishing  lamb  ;  a  bishop's  reward,  when 
they  that  be  teachers  "shall  shine  as  the  brightness  of  the  firma- 
ment ;  and  they  that  turn  many  to  righteousness,  as  the  stars  for- 
ever and  ever." 

I  hardly  know  how  I  have  dared  to  say  all  this  to  you  so  freely, 


288  AUTUMN   OF   LIFE. 

dear  Bishop.  Perhaps  because  it  has  been  denied  me  the  comfort- 
able home-appointments  that  would  let  us  always  beg  you  and  Mrs. 
Bedell  to  be  our  guests  in  Delaware.  And  I  wanted  you  to  be- 
lieve, in  memory  of  the  past,  and  in  fullest  appreciation  of  the 
present,  warmest  welcome  must  be  ever  yours,  from 

J.  H.  P. 

As  the  passing  breeze,  that  asks  no  notice,  please  look  upon  these 
impulsive  words. 


Friday,  October  20,  1871. 
DEAR  PRESIDENT  MERRICK  : — 

Will  you  and  Mrs.  Merrick  have  this  picture?  [her  photograph]. 
Please  keep  it  as  a  reminder  of  your  kindness,  the  little  railroad 
ride,  and  our  broken  talk  of  Tuesday  last. 

Your  words  about  "  the  autumn  rest,"  so  "soft  and  sweet,"  as 
type  of  the  "decline  of  life's  long  pilgrimage,"  found  such  answer 
in  my  own  heart,  calling  up  these  treasured  verses.  I  do  not  know 
who  wrote  them,  but  my  picture  says  them,  because  they  are  the 
true  expression  of  my  whole  heart. 

Gratefully  yours, 

JEANETTE  H.  PLATT. 

[On  the  back  of  the  note  was  written  :  "  Not  for  '  the  al- 
bum' ; — please  fold  them  away  together," — referring  to  her  por- 
trait and  the  accompanying  poem. 

The  verses  alluded  to  are  the  following  : — ] 

THE   AUTUMN    OF    LIFE. 

Fling  down  the  faded  blossoms  of  the  spring, 

Nor  clasp  the  roses  with  regretful  hand ; 
The  joy  of  summer  is  a  vanished  thing; 

Let  it  depart,  and  learn  to  understand 
The  gladness  of  great  calm,  the  autumn  rest, 
The  peace — of  human  joys  the  latest  and  the  best ! 

Ah,  I  remember  how,  in  early  days, 

•  The  primrose  and  the  wild  flowers  grew  beside 

My  tangled  forest  paths,  whose  devious  ways 

Filled  me  with  joys  of  mysteries  untried, 
And  terror  that  was  more  than  half  delight, 
And  sense  of  budding  life,  and  longings  infinite. 


AUTUMN   OF   LIFE.  289 

And  I  remember  how,  in  life's  hot  noon, 

Around  my  path  the  lavish  roses  shed 
Color  and  fragrance,  and  the  air  of  June 

Breathed  rapture; — now  those  summer  days  are  fled, 
Days  of  sweet  peril,  when  the  serpent  lay 
Lurking  at  every  turn  of  life's  enchanted  way. 

The  light  of  spring,  the  glow,  are  o'er, 

And  I  rejoice  in  knowing  that  for  me 
The  woodbine  and  the  roses  bloom  no  more ; 

The  tender  green  is  gone  from  field  and  tree ; 
Brown,  barren  sprays  stand  clear  against  the  blue, 
And  leaves  fall  fast,  and  let  the  truthful  sunlight  through. 

For  me  the  hooded  herbs  of  autumn  grow, 

Square-stemmed  and  sober-tinted ;  mint  and  sage, 

Horehound  and  balm — such  plants  as  healing  know; 
And  the  decline  of  life's  long  pilgrimage 

Is  soft  and  sweet  with  marjoram  and  thyme, 

Bright  with  pure  evening  dew,  nor  serpents'  glittering  slime. 

Around  my  path  the  aromatic  air 

Breathes  health  and  perfume,  and  the  turfy  ground 
Is  soft  for  weary  feet,  and  smooth  and  fair, 

While  little  thornless  blossoms  that  abound 
In  safe,  dry  places,  where  the  mountain  side 
Lies  to  the  setting  sun,  and  no  ill  beast  can  hide. 

What  is  there  to  regret  ?     Why  should  I  mourn 

To  leave  the  forest  and  the  marsh  behind  ; 
Or  towards  the  rank,  low  meadows,  sadly  turn  ? 

Since  here  another  loveliness  I  find, 
Safer,  and  not  less  beautiful, — and  blest 
With  glimpses,  faint  and  far,  of  the  long-wished  for  Rest. 

Is  it  an  evil  to  be  drawing  near 

The  timeiwhen  I  shall  know  as  I  am  known  ? 
Is  it  an  evil  that  the  sky  grows  clear, 

That  sunset  light  upon  my  path  is  thrown ; 
That  truth  grows  purer,  that  temptations  cease, 
And  that  I  see  afar  a  path  that  leads  to  peace  ? 

Is  it  not  joy  to  feel  the  lapsing  years 

Calm  down  one's  spirit  ?  as  at  eventide, 
After  long  storm,  the  far  horizon  clears, 

The  skies  shine  golden,  and  the  stars  subside; 
Stern  outlines  soften  in  the  sunlit  air; 
And  still,  as  day  declines,  the  restful  earth  grows  fair. 

19 


290  JOHN    S.    HART. 

And  so  I  drop  the  roses  from  my  hand, 

And  let  the  thorn-pricks  heal,  and  take  my  way 

Down  hill,  across  a  fair  and  peaceful  land 
Lapt  in  the  golden  calm  of  dymg  day; 

Glad  that  the  night  is  near;  and  glad  to  know 

That,  rough  or  smooth  the  way,  I  have  not  far  to  go. 

OAK  HILL,  October  25,  1871. 
MRS.  J.  H.  PLATT 

Will  please  accept  our  thanks  for  the  beautiful  picture  and  the 
pleasant  verses,  received  through  the  mail  a  few  days  since.  Bless- 
ings on  you  and  your  respected  husband  j  and,  if  your  path  be 
"down-hill,"  may  it  be 

"  —  across  a  fair  and  peaceful  land 
Lapt  in  the  golden  calm  of  dying  day." 

Kindly  yours, 

F.  MERRICK, 
F.  S.  MERRICK. 

We  first  saw  the  above  verses  in  1870,  in  the  Sunday  School 
Times,  which  was  then  published  by  the  late  Hon.  John  S.  Hart, 
at  that  time  Principal  of  the  State  Normal  School,  at  Trenton,  N. 
J.  I  wrote  to  him,  inquiring  if  he  knew  the  author,  and  received 
the  following  reply: — 

TRENTON,  N.  J.,  Nov.  19,  1870. 
MR.  C.  PLATT: —  • 

DEAR  SIR:  Your  favor  of  the  i4th  is  received.  The  selection, 
"The  Autumn  of  Life,"  was  made  by  me.  My  cousin,  Rev.  A. 
M.  Morrison,  had  cut  it  from  some  religious  paper,  and  showed  it 
to  me.  I  admired  it  so  much  that  I  published  it  in  the  Sunday 
School  Times.  None  of  us  know  who  is  the  author.  We  would 
like  to  know  very  much. 

Yours  truly, 

JOHN  S.  HART. 

Mr.  Hart  wrote  again,  under  date  of  December  15,  to  Mrs. 
Platt,  as  follows: — 


WHAT  IS  TRUE  PREACHING?  2QI 

DEAR  MADAM: — 

I  return  the  poem  as  requested.  It  seems  to  have  given  you 
some  surprise  that  a  "man"  should  have  admired  these  verses. 
Are  we  poor  masculines,  in  your  eyes,  so  utterly  devoid  of  taste 
and  judgment?  What  will  you  say  when  I  tell  you  that  I  have  read 
the  poem  aloud,  at  a  large  dinner-table,  as  the  best  way  of  con- 
tributing my  share  to  the  social  enjoyment,  and  that  I  have  in  like 
manner  read  it  to  several  other  groups  of  friends  ? 

Yours  very  truly, 

JOHN  S.  HART. 

I  have  the  impression  that  these  Questions  were  written  for  pub- 
lication, but  do  not  know  that  they  were  published. 

QUESTIONS  FOR  THE  PULPIT. 

March  10,  1873. 

What  is  preaching  the  Gospel?  What  is  meant  by — "And  I,  if 
I  be  lifted  up  from  the  earth,  will  draw  all  men  unto  me?"  (St. 
John,  xii.  32.)  What  does  "attractions"  of  the  Cross  mean? 
Can  man  be  drawn  by  the  preaching  of  the  duty  of  self-examina- 
tion,-self-denial,  introspection?  Are  men  ever  made  better  by  the 
preaching  that  they  are  grievous  sinners?  Is  there  not  full  knowl- 
edge of  this  in  every  heart  without  feeling  of  the  fact?  Is  a  man 
saved  through  looking  at  himself?  A  sick  man  cannot  feel  his  own 
pulse.  Is  not  Jesus  the  beginning  and  all  "the  way"  of  the  soul's 
return  to  God  ?  What  kind  of  preaching  can  best  lead  a  ruined 
man  to  know  himself?  Should  not  all  preaching  only  shut  him  up 
to  the  One  Teacher — the  "Light  of  Life?"  Should  not  ministers 
prepare  their  sermons  as  "workmen"  under  the  Spirit,  remember- 
ing that  He  saves  lost  men  by  taking  of  the  things  of  Christ,  and 
showing  them  unto  him. 


"  Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart  for  they  shall  see  God." 

Mrs.  Platt  was  "pure  in  heart"  to  an  eminent  degree.  Purity 
of  thought,  motive,  and  desire  were  leading  characteristics;  and 
this  made  her  quick  to  detect,  and  prompt  and  fearless  to  condemn 
whatever  was  impure  in  books  or  papers.  Acting  under  this  prin- 
ciple, she  was  moved  to  write  the  following:  — 


2Q2  SOUL   LEPROSY. 

July  22,  1874. 

To  THE  EDITOR  OF  THE  CINCINNATI  DAILY  GAZETTE  : 

As  I  put  away  to-day's  issue  from  our  children's  eyes  in  sicken- 
ing disgust,  I  ask,  can  there  be  any  possible  good  wrought  out  of 
all  this  horrible  evil?  This  open  outrage  upon  all  decency — the 
disgusting  revelations  that  cover  more  than  one  page  of  our  usually 
most  welcome  paper. 

I  know  nothing  of  "Henry's"  philosophy,  that  Mrs.  Woodhull 
carries  out;  but  has  not  George  Eliot's  Middlemarch  a  taint  that 
if  received  and  followed  may  develop  just  such  evil?  The  power 
of  that  book  every  reader  admits,  but  do  the  young  see,  though 
they  may  forever  feel,  the  subtle  evil  hid  among  its  thrilling  pages? 
The  author  thrusts  at  the  sanctity  of  married  life  —  "the  holy 
estate"  declared  to  be  "  honorable  among  all  men." 

God  has  so  blessed  marriage,  that  no  two  persons  can  enter  into 
it  "reverently,  discreetly,  advisedly,  soberly,  and  in  the  fear  of 
God,"  that  He  will  not  mercifully,  with  His  favor,  bless  and  keep 
them  in  harmony  and  happiness. 

A  "  Dorothea"  and  "Casaubon"  may  exist.  The  Doctor's  and 
Laura's  unhappiness  is  a  possible  phase  of  married  life,  but  which 
can  never  come  to  earnest  true  natures,  fearing  God.  God  always 
moulds  two  natures  into  harmony,  or  He  Himself  supplies  what  is 
lacking  in  each  other,  through  His  bestowed  patience,  forbearance, 
and  pitying  love,  and  fills  up  the  measure  of  household  joy  in  even 
richer,  deeper  fulness. 

What  is  "magnetic  affinity,"  and  all  that  may  belong  to  such 
things?  As  I  believe  Middlemarch  to  teach,  surely  this  is  the 
theory,  "Two  natures  meeting  and  finding  'magnetic  affinity,' 
its  fascinations  and  delights,"  have  the  seal  of  their  Maker's  ap- 
proval upon  their  course.  Is  not  this  just  soul  leprosy?  To  be 
pointed  out  and  shunned  as  such?  Has  not  the  taint  touched  the 
minds  of  many  to  the  life-long  peril  of  their  domestic  happiness? 
It  is  asked,  may  not  a  man  find  affinity — "the  electric-thrills" 
— with' a  woman  not  his  wife?  May  not  "Dorothea"  be  miser- 
able in  her  husband's  society,  and  yet  very  happy  in  the  presence 
of  his  "young  cousin,"  and  still  be  so  good  and  loving? 

The  only  answer  is  No!  ntver!    Every  true  wife  or  husband 


SEX   IN    EDUCATION.  293 

would  meet  such  iniquitous  suggestions  with  the  Saviour's  words-— 
"Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan  !" 

J.  H.  PLATT. 


TO  EDWARD  H.  CLARK,  M.D.,  Author  of  the  little  book,  «  Sex  in 
Education." 

DELAWARE,  O.,  Aug.  4,  1874. 
E.  H.  CLARK,  M.D.  :— 

DEAR  SIR  :  Your  "  Sex  in  Education"  has  just  been  read  by  an 
unlearned  western  mother,  who  wants  to  tell  you  that  her  experi- 
ence, as  the  mother  of  five  daughters  and  three  sons,  proves  to  her 
the  truth  of  the  statements,  convictions,  and  conclusions  of  your 
book.  Surely  every  true,  watchful  mother,  who  has  raised  daugh- 
ters to  maturity,  must  agree  with  you. 

If  it  is  not  asking  too  much,  will  you  please  say  where  can  be 
found  the  best  attempt  at  reply  to  your  book,  by  "Yankee  wo- 
men," and  the  name  of  their  publication. 

MRS.  CYRUS  PLATT. 

DR.  CLARK'S  REPLY. 

BOSTON,  Aug.  23,  1874. 
MRS.  CYRUS  PLATT,  DELAWARE,  OHIO: — 

DEAR  MADAM  :  Accept  my  thanks  for  your  note  of  August  24, 
and  for  your  appreciation  of  my  essay  upon  "  Sex  in  Education." 

Five  or  six  replies  have  been  published,  none  of  which  seemed 
to  me  of  sufficient  force  to  merit  an  answer. 

Perhaps  the  best  one  is  "Sex  and  Education,"  edited  by  Mrs. 
Julia  Ward  Howe,  and  published  in  Boston. 

"  No  Sex  in  Education"  has  been  published  in  Philadelphia. 

Very  truly  yours, 

E.  H.  CLARK. 


Mrs.  Platt  was  very  much  interested  in  Kitty  C.,  her  godchild, 
and  always  remembered  her  at  Christmas  and  birthdays, — sending 
books  or  other  tokens,  with  little  notes  written  in  her  playful, 
affectionate  manner.  From  some  of  them  these  extracts  are  taken  : — 


294  A    SONG   OF   PATIENCE. 

« 

DEAR  KITTY: — 

What  can  a  young  girl  do  with  this  "Winter  Idyl"*  of  the 
Quaker  poet?  so  much  too  dry  and  old  for  her;  but  say  over  its 
pretty  name,  and  peep  at  its  pleasant  snow-pictures,  and  believe 
that  it  carries  to  her  bright,  best,  and  loving  wishes,  from  heir 

GODMOTHER. 

Christmas,  1875. 

December  23,  1876. 
DEAR  KITTY  : — 

If  only  I  were  a  fairy  godmother,  quickly  this  little  knife  would 
turn  into  a  beautiful  book  !  The  world  should  be  full  of  books  and 
flowers. 

Poor  "Johnny"  !  How  much  he  is  in  our  thoughts.  It  seems 
so  sad  to  have  to  suffer  in  this  joyous  season.  Christmas  always 
brings  back  past  days,  and  how  plainly  I  see  the  beautiful  baby 
boy,  with  fairest  face  and  flowing  curls,  every  one  admiring  and 
wanting  to  caress  him. 

Indeed  he  was  a  most  beautiful  baby,  and  sweetest  little  boy,  and 
his  voice  so  full  of  birdlike  music.  The  children  had  a  "singing- 
school"  in  those  days.  "  Little  Drops  of  Water"  they  were  trying 
to  learn.  "  Johnny"  was  but  a  wee  fellow  one  Christmas  time,  and 
had  joined  them  in  the  parlor,  where  they  were  trying  the  tune. 
"  Oh,  that's  not  right,"  he  said  ;  and  I  called  from  the  next  room, 
"Please,  Johnny,  you  show  them  how;"  and  I  can  never  forget 
the  tones  of  that  childish  voice,  so  clear  and  sweet  in  "  little  deeds 
of  kindness,  little  words  of  love."  What  a  song  of  patience  and 
sweetness  has  been  his  whole  life  thus  far  !  No  winter  wind  or 
biting  frost  of  suffering  has  stopped  his  trust  and  hope,  or.  taken 
the  cheer  out  of  his  voice,  or  the  smile  from  his  lips  for  every  one. 

I  wonder  if  he  calls  his  a  very  blessed,  happy,  useful  life?  Is 
not  he  blessed  and  happy  who  ministers  to  the  highest  good  of 
those  about  him  ?  Surely;  your  dear  brotherf  has  unconsciously 
done  this,  is  doing  it  now,  though  he  may  feel  all  "laid  away." 

*  Whittier's  "  Snow  Bound." 

f  The  death  of  this  young  man  occurred  soon  after  that  of  Mrs.  Platt.  One 
who  was  intimate  in  the  family,  and  much  with  him  during  his  last  days,  writes : 
"  From  early  childhood,  on  through  twenty  years,  his  physical  sufferings  were 


A   SUPERIOR   LETTER.  295 

You  can  better  tell  him  this  that  I  am  trying  to  say ;  won't  you 
please  do  so  ? 

With  my  love  and  loving  best  wishes  for  yourself, 

J.  H.  P. 


FROM    MRS.  DR.    McCABE,  returning  a   letter  inclosed  to  her,  written  by 
Mrs.  Platt  to  her  daughter  N ,  and  to  her  husband,  Mr.  S 

TUESDAY  MORN. 
MR.  PLATT: — 

MY  DEAR  SIR  :  I  do  not  know  that  I  ever  saw  a  letter  from  a 
mother  superior  to  the  one  inclosed.  I  have  always  valued-  her 
little  notes  and  occasional  letters;  but  of  all  I  have  seen  from  her 
pen,  this  is  the  most  remarkable.  There  is  not  only  love  and 
4visdom,  but  an  indescribable  power  of  love  and  wisdom,  as  though 
she  were  only  a  conduit,  and  life  directly  from  Christ,  flowing 
through  her  to  those  dear  children.  Such  honor  have  mothers. 

Evidently  her  whole  being  was  roused,  and  her-  sanctified  mother- 
heart  spoke  divinely.  While  she  writes  such  words  of  trust  and 
strength,  how  plainly  one  hears  her  cry  out  of  the  depth  of  help- 
lessness, like  an  undertone,  into  the  ear  of  God  !  When  I  see  such 
exhibitions  of  grace,  I  "am  glad,  and  rejoice  in  the  Lord." 

The  letter  of  mine  ....  refers  to  a  deep  trial  into  which 
the  eminent  Mr.  S.  came.  I  told  her  that  his  dear  friend  said  it 
was  "  lest  his  leaf  should  wither  in  the  sun  of  his  great  popularity." 

Most  truly, 

H.  C.  McC. 

constant,  and  frequently  intense.  Mrs.  Platt  watched  him  and  sympathized  with 
him  most  tenderly.  He  was  wont  to  relieve  days,  and  even  sleepless  nights  of 
pain,  in  exercising  his  inventive  genius,  and  in  gratifying  his  aesthetic  taste,  by 
making  articles  to  bestow  upon  the  objects  of  his  unselfish  affection.  His  patience 
and  cheerfulness,  as  he  saw  hope  after  hope  depart,  were  to  many  both  a  wonder 
and  an  inspiration.  Long  before  his  death  he  had  passed  the  Jordan  of  doubt  and 
fear.  t  Without  impatience  or  repining  at  such  a  life  of  suffering,  he  fell  asleep, 
a  complete  victor  through  the  crucified  One." 


296  BAPTISM   OF   SUFFERING. 

'  TO  MRS.   DR.  McCABE. 

March  6,  1877. 
MY  DEAR  FRIEND  : — 

Resting  on  my  lounge,  listening  to  daughter's  reading  the  Psalter 

for  this  morning,  poor  Mrs.  S seemed  so  present — the  sacred 

words  and  thoughts  a  kind  of  refrain  about  the  touching  story  you 
hinted  to  me  last  evening.  I  never  felt  a  stronger  throb  of  sym- 
pathy. Next  to  God,  a  woman  knows  her  sister-woman ;  and  a 
pilgrim  nearing  home  must  so  know  and  feel  that  "Hisways;" 
always  so  "high  above  our  ways,"  are  always  most  loving  and 
equal.  No  staggering  or  bewilderment  of  head  or  heart  under  that 
touch  of  anguish — the  "heaviness  for  a  night"  can  cast  the  faintest 
shadow  upon  the  work  for  her  Master  she  was  trying  to  do.  He 
would  not  permit  that ;  and  so  soon  He  sent  the  "  joy  in  the  morn- 
ing." Thanks  to  Him,  for  the  sister- voice  that  testified  of  His 
love  in  sheltering  His  chosen  "  from  the  scorching  midday  sun. 
"Hereafter"  she  would  see  that  act  was  the  fullest,  deepest,  th£ 
crowning  love-measure  of  His  hand  toward  her.  Now  I  think  I 
can  listen  and  try  to  follow  all  she  may  speak  or  write,  as  never 
before,  after  this  baptism  of  suffering.  May  not  this  passage  of  her 
life  teach  as  her  words  and  daily  walk  before  never  could  do? 

We  cry,  "God  forbid  that  I  should  glory,  save  in  the  Cross  !" 
and  he  answers  us  in  ways  that  we  know  not.  Few  hearts  can 
safely  bear  high  noon  of  a  successful  work,  or  an  exalted  position 
before  man!  .  Then  the  "staining"  comes,  self  falls,  and  the 
Healer,  Helper,  and  Restorer  is  glorified  and  exalted  all  in  all. 
"  What  is  perfected  piety  but  perfected  self-renunciation,  and  per- 
fected dependence  upon  the  appointed  Saviour?  The  last  remnant 
of  a  rebellious  spirit  that  is  shaken  off  by  man,  is  self-dependence." 

I  want  to  call  last  evening's  call  all  my  husband's  (he  proposed 
it,  returning  from  Prof.  W.'s).  All  winter  I*  have  been  hungry  to 
see  you.  You  cannot  think  this?  O  yes,  you  will,  when  I  tell 
you  of  the  attractions  of  soul  to  soul,  that  come  not  frorn  any 
earthly  bond  of  fellowship,  oneness  of  work,  or  any  seeing  eye  to 
eye,  or  being  often  face  to  face : — it  is  felt,  not  explained  by  earthly 
language ;  it  hints  of  the  holy  communion  of  the  Better  Country, 
where  spirits  congenial  shall  know  each  other  even  as  they  are 
known — where  those  who  have  been  permitted  to  touch  us  for 


PRECIOUS    RECOLLECTIONS.  297 

good  here,  may,  perhaps,  become  our  appointed  leaders  and  guides 
to  heights  of  knowledge  and  joy,  that  "  eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear 
heard,"  of  "  the  things  which  God  has  prepared  for  them  that  love 
Him." 

But  I  "  took  my  pen"  only  for  a  few  words,  to  beg  that  when 
you  hand  about  to  Christian  friends  some  subject  for  secret  prayer, 
you  will  link  my  name  in  the  sacred  circle — though  I  am  not  with 
those  who  work,  but  those  who  only  "stand  and  wait." 

Your  loving  friend, 

J.  H.  P. 

FROM  MRS.  DR.  McCABE  TO  MRS.  SAYRE  AND  THE  MISSES 

•  PLATT. 

Sabbath  Afternoon,  August  26,  1877. 

MY  DEAR  YOUNG  LADIES  : — 

I  have  taken  an  hour  on  this,  your  dear  mother's  first  Sabbath 
in  her  new  home,  to  express  something  of  my  sympathy  to  those 
whom  she  holds  dearest. 

It  was  in  the  early  spring  I  had  some  very  pleasant  hours  of  com- 
munion with  your  mother.  She  then  told  me,  as  though  she  had 
it  specially  to  communicate,  that  her  stay  here  would  not  be  pro- 
tracted. I  endeavored  to  dissuade  her,  but  her  manner  was  so 
positive  and  peculiar,  always  replying,  "No;  !/<?<?/it," — that,  full 
of  surprise  and  sorrow,  I  desisted.  The  last  book  she  sent  me  was 
entitled  "  Memorials  of  a  Quiet  Life,"  an  account  of  a  very  rare, 
spiritual  woman,  whom  she  greatly  admired.  In  it  is  a  reference 
to  a  poem,  which,  happening  to  have,  I  sent  to  your  mother ;  and 
I  inclose  it  to  you  as  the  last  poem  I  ever  sent  to  her.*  When 
you  are  quite  through  with  it  I  will  ask  you  to  return  it,  as  it  is  one 
of  my  treasures. 

Among  many  precious  recollections  of  the  last  few  years  is  one 
of  a  journey  we  once  made  together  over  the  mountains.  We 
enjoyed  the  scenery ;  and  after  a  cheerful  supper,  having  the  car 
all  to  ourselves,  as  the  twilight  drew  on,  we  came  together  by  the 

*  "  When  will  He  come,"  a  very  remarkable  poem,  author  unknown.  It  is 
published  in  many  forms  elsewhere. 


298  WHAT   THE    WORLD    NEEDS. 

lamp,  and  I  read  from  my  Prayer-book  the  evening  Psalms.  What 
a  never-to-be-forgotten  hour  it  was  !  She  was  never  weary  of  speak- 
ing to  me  of  the  wonderful  Psalms ;  and  I  think  I  still  have  a  let- 
ter of  hers  in  which  she  dwells  on  the  text,  "  Precious  in  the  sight 
of  the  Lord  is  the  death  of  His  saints." 

As  we  learned  each  other  better,  my  intercourse  with  your  mother 
has  been  to  me  what  the  coming  in  of  excellent  music  and  valued 
things  of  beauty  are  to  one's  life;  and  it  was  a  sharp  pain,  when 
suddenly  I  found  this  lost.  But  now,  I  am  assured,  I  shall  never 
lose  her ;  that  the  bonds  of  our  union  are  daily  strengthening,  and 
will  continue  to  strengthen  forever.  I  feel  a  thrill  of  joy  when  I 
think  of  her  in  her  new  home.  How  interested  she  must  be  !  how 
cheerful  !  how  delighted,  and  how  glad  when  she  thinks  of  your 
coming  to  join  her  in  so  much  pleasure  and  interest !  Doubtless 
God  would  not  have  taken  her  from  those  who  so  need  her 
cheer  and  counsel,  could  she  not  do  better  things  for  you  there 
than  here.  And  how?  Such  a  loved  treasure  being  forever  with 
the  Lord  must  irresistibly  attract  you  toward  Him,  and  all  He 
prizes; — all  the  spiritual  loveliness  and  true  goodness  which,  more 
than  natural  charms,  made  your  mother  the  rare  and  much-loved 
person  she  was — she  is.  How  I  long  to  see  more  women  like  her. 
How  much  the  world  needs  them, — women  who  grow  strong  and 
sweet  through  the  discipline  of  circumstances, — women  who  dwejl 
in  the  atmosphere  of  love,  and,  like  clouds  ever  near  the  sun,  are 
always  bright,  and  become  light  and  comfort  to  others.  I  am  quite 
sure  I  shall  yet  see  these  daughters  as  rarely  good  and  sweet  in  their 
own  indviduality  as  was  their  mother  in  hers.  Any  other  thought 
would  be  a  sad  disappointment. 

As  I  reverence  and  love  her,  and  found,  when  she  was  here,  so 
much  solace  and  pleasure  in  her  society,  you,  her  dear  daughters, 
will  never  cease  to  be  objects  of  regard,  and  most  earnest  and 
affectionate  well-wishing  to  your  mother's 

Ever-loving  friend, 

H.  C.  McC. 


. TALENTS    EMPLOYED.  299 


XXIII. 

"  The  path  of  the  just  is  as  the  shining  light  that  shineth  more  and  more  unto 

the  perfect  day." 

Sympathy  for  the  afflicted — Letters  from  Mrs.  Preston,  Mrs.  C.  Todd,  Mrs.  Mer- 
rick — Bishop  Mcllvaine — To  Mrs.  McC.,  Mrs.  L.  C. — From  Bishop  Jaggar, 
Miss  Snell. 

MRS.  PLATT  was  ever  ready  with  a  kindly  word  of  sympathy  for 
friends  in  affliction ;  and,  either  by  written  note  or  timely  visit, 
would  try  to  minister  comfort  and  consolation.  The  power  to  do 
this  seemed  to  be  one  of  her  special  gifts.  Her  success  in  its  exer- 
cise may  be  inferred  from  some  of  the  notes  at  hand,  written  in 
acknowledgment  of  her  Christian  sympathy  and  kindly  feeling. 
The  following  is  from  Mrs.  Preston,  wife  of  Rev.  William  Preston 
(formerly  Rector  of  Trinity  Church,  Columbus,  Ohio),  acknowl- 
edging a  letter  written  on  the  death  of  a  beloved  child : — 

BRIDGEPORT,  CT.,  Feb.  23,  1853. 

How  can  I  thank  you,  my  dear  Mrs.  Platt,  for  so  kindly  remem- 
bering us  in  our  affliction?  Sweet  is  the  sympathy  of  Christian 
friends.  What  precious  promises  you  place  before  us  !  At  first  I 
could  find  no  comfort  even  in  the  Word  of  God.  But  now  I  know, 
I  feel  it  is  in  love,  in  mercy,  that  we  have  been  so  sorely  smitten. 
It  is  a  Father's  hand  has  stricken  us,  and,  though  it  is  a  bitter  cup, 
yet  there  is  much  to  comfort  in  the  early  departure  of  our  darling 
boy  to  his  heavenly  home.  Ido  not  ever  think  of  him  as  in  the 
grave,  but  as  one  of  the  "  cherub  band,"  singing  the  song  he  loved 
on  earth.  Though  I  rejoice  in  his  happiness,  I  cannot  but  weep 
and  mourn  over  the  home  on  earth  made  desolate.  And  should  I 
not?  Even  "Jesus  wept  o'er  Lazarus  dead."  He  knows  our 
grief. 


300  SUNBEAMS. 

I  had  intended  to  write  you  long  since,  to  congratulate  you  on 
the  addition  of  another  to  your  little  flock, "and  also  to  thank  you 
for  your  letter  received  just  before  we  left  Columbus.  My  feeble 
health,  the  excitement  and  fatigue  of  our  removal,  and  getting  set- 
tled in  our  new  home,  must  be  my  apology.  Your  letter  was  a 
real  comfort  and  encouragement  in  many  a  dark  hour.  I  could 
not  begin  to  tell  you  how  often  I  have  repeated  the  words  of  your 
couplet : — 

"  Bear  the  burden  of  to-day,"  etc. 

My  earnest  prayers  often  ascend  for  you  and  yours.  May  you 
long  enjoy  your  quiet,  happy  home,  as  free  from  the  cares  and  sor- 
rows of  earth  as  the  Christian  may  be.  My  husband  unites  with 
me  in  kindest  regards  to  your  husband,  yourself,  and  children. 

Most  affectionately  your  friend, 

C.  PRESTON. 


FROM  MRS.  C.  TODD  TO  MRS.   PLATT. 

• 

Mrs.  Todd's  home  was  in  Hartford,  Conn.  Her  husband  was 
Dr.  Eli  Todd,  Principal  of  the  first  Retreat  for  the  Insane  in  the 
United  States,  and  for  many  years  the  only  one. 

She  was  visiting  relatives  in  Delaware  at  the  time  referred  to  in 
her  note  to  Mrs.  Platt. 

May  13,  1861. 

You  give  me  altogether  too  much  credit,  my  dear  Mrs.  Platt, 
for  the  slight  expression  of  good-will  and  interest  in  your  happi- 
ness. I  am  sure  I  did  not  say  half  that  was  in  my  heart.  Don't 
I  remember  that  you  and  your  good  husband  were  the  first  to  come 
and  see  me  after  my  arrival  in  Delaware  last  summer,  and  that 
without  delay  ?  And,  then,  didn't  you  keep  sending  me  little 
tokens  of  kind  thoughts  all  along,  even  to  the  last  day,  darting 
sunbeams  into  the  old  lady's  pathway? — and  I  insist  that  you  are 
a  "  trap  to  catch  sunbeams"  for  others  ;  and  I  only  wish  they  may 
be  reflected  back  upon  yourself  in  a  tenfold  degree.  The  indebt- 
edness is  all  on  my  side 

Where  is  your  sister  Ellen  now?     If  with  you,  give  my  love  to 


"THEM  THAT  HONOR  ME  i  WILL  HONOR.  301 

her ;  and  present  my  kind  regards  to  your  husband.     Accept  my 
thanks  for  all  your  kind  wishes,  and  believe  me  truly  your  friend!, 

C.  TODD. 

The  inclosed  little  allegory  struck  me  as  being  very  beautiful ; 
and,  as  I  think  you  are  one  to  "create  beauty"  by  perceiving  it,  I 
send  it  to  you.  [Not  found. — C.  P.] 


DELAWARE,  O.,  January  2,  1871. 
DEAR  MRS.  MERRICK  : — 

I  have  no  right  to  intrude.  I  see  no  reason,  only  that  I  so  much 
want  to  speak  with  you.  Only  to-day,  from  Miss  Merrick,  have 
I  first  heard  of  the  sad  care  God  has  permitted  to  come  to  you, — 
so  shut  up  in  my  own  home  do  I  live  !  Did  not  know  President 
Merrick  was  not  at  his  post  in  college  in  usual  health.  Only  ex- 
changed a  few  words  with  Miss  M.,  and  was  so  grieved,  and  yet 
made  so  glad,  "sorrowful,  yet  rejoicing-"  (you  will  understand 
such  contradictions?),  beseeching  God  for  his  healing  help  in  this 
"  time  of  need,"  yet  offering  most  hearty  thanks  for  the  manifesta- 
tion of  His  loving  power  in  sustaining  your  dear,  suffering  one. 
Miss  Helen  says,  you  write  that,  under  all  his  utter  prostration,  he 
is  enabled  to  sweetly  "rest."  How  the  blessed  Master  has  hon- 
ored your  husband  ! — thus  "  choosing  him  in  this  furnace  of  afflic- 
tion," enabling  him  thus  to  "glorify  Him  in  the  fires."  Assure 
him,  if  he  is  well  enough  for  talking,  that  no  sermon  from  his  lips, 
no  lesson  from  his  past  daily  life  ever  so  "  stood  up  for  Jesus"  as 
does  this  voice  from  his  feeble  health,  declaring  the  all-sufficiency 
and  power  of  "the  everlasting  Arm"  in  this  most  troubled,  soul- 
discouraging  hour  of  "  fiery  trial."  Can  there  be  greater  suffering? 

"Whom  the  Lord  loves,"  He  "chooses"  in  such  trial,  and  thus 
sets  His  own  mark  upon  him.  Who  but  He  can  count  and  Compre- 
hend the  weight  of  each  weary  moment?  "He  knoweth  our 
frame,"  He  ever  "remembereth."  He  Himself  made  that  "harp 
of  a  thousand  strings  so  wondrous."  No  touch,  not  a  vibration, 
and  He  not  see  it,  and  not  "touched"  also  !  His  own  Everlasting 
Arms  are  under  "the  sufferer,"  and  "ministering  spirits"  ever 
press  around,  desiring  to  see  and  adore  the  grace  that  can  so  sus- 
tain poor,  feeble  man,  "not  knowing  yet  what  he  shall  be." 


302  BISHOP    M  ILVAINE. 

Dear  Mrs.  Merrick,  may  God  cheer  and  comfort  the  comforter, 
as  I  know  you  are  to  your  poor  husband  !  I  fear  you  cannot  make 
out  this  unstudied  expression  of  my  heart's  deepest  sympathy. 

With  earnest  prayers, 

Your  friend, 

J.  H.  PLATT. 

FROM  MRS.  DR.  MERRICK. 

CLIFTON  SPRINGS,  N.  Y.,  Feb.  6,  1871. 
MY  DEAR  MRS.  PLATT: — 

A  month  since  I  received  a  very  sweet  and  sympathizing  letter 
from  you.  It  should  have  had  an  earlier  answer,  which  it  so  richly 
deserved.  I  am  sorry  you  felt  it  in  any  wise  an  intrusion  to  write 
to  me,  for  surely  such  kind  and  sympathizing  words  as  yours  could 
never  be  an  intrusion;  and  especially  in  such  a  time  of  need  they 
were  very  welcome.  I  know  you  will  rejoice  with  me  in  the  fact 
that  my  dear  husband  is  fast  recovering  his  former  health.  We 

have,  I  trust,  recognized  the  Hand  that  has  .afflicted 

We  have. been  sweetly  sustained  and  have  often  felt  we  were  in  a 
loving  Saviour's  hands,  who  was  leading  us  in  the  path  best  for  us, 
though  mysterious  to  us.  We  feel  all  love  and  praise  are  due  unto 
Him,  who  has  so  wonderfully  kept,  sustained,  and  restored.  Many 
thanks  for  your  loving  words  of  sympathy;  may  they  bring  a  rich 
reward  to  your  own  heart.  May  the  "blessing  of  the  Lord,  that 
maketh  rich  and  addeth  no  sorrow  with  it,"  be  yours. 

My  husband  joins  in  kind  regards  to  your  husband  and  yourself. 

Kindly  and  lovingly  yours, 

FIDELIA  S.  MERRICK. 


Bishop  Mcllvaine  was  a  warm  personal  friend  and  an  admirer  of 
Mrs.  Platt's,  and  was  occasionally  her  guest  during  the  time  of  his 
official  visits,  and  when  not  so,  was  always  gratified  by  a  visit  from 
her.  As  both  were  natives  of  Old  Burlington,  this  formed  a  bond 
of  sympathy  between  them,  strengthened  by  congeniality  of  spirit. 

Perhaps  the  last  time  they  met  was  in  a  railway  train  not  long 
before  the  Bishop's  last  visit  to  England.  As  soon  as  he  learned 


THE  CHRISTIAN'S  HOPE.  303 

that  Mrs.  Platt  was  in  the  adjoining  car,  he  at  once  rose  up  to  go 
and  see  her. 

Letters  passed  between  them  occasionally,  but  only  this  from 
Mrs.  Mcllvaine  is  found  among  Mrs.  Platt's  papers. 

FROM  MRS.  McILVAINE. 

CLIFTON,  CIN.,  May  17,  1870. 
DEAR  MRS.'  PLATT:  — 

Your  little  note  came  by  the  mail  of  this  morning,  and  I  hasten 
to  reply.  I  am  thankful  to  have  it  in  my  power  to  say  that  the 
Bishop  seems  much  improved  since  his  return,  which  was,  indeed, 
quite  unexpected.  Though  it  has  been  necessary  to  write  very 
much  more  than  was  prudent,  his  head  continues  tolerably  well, 
though  not  quite  free  from  that  confusion  which  is  so  distressing. 
Dur  nights  are  so  cool  and  pleasant  here  that  he  sleeps  very  much 
better  than  he  did,  and  his  appetite  is  quite  good.  He  naturally 
has  a  most  vigorous  constitution  and  elastic  mind,  and  these  two 
important  elements  will,  perhaps,  enable  him  to  battle  with  disease 
more  than  persons  generally.  His  nerves  have  been  much  shat- 
tered by  our  dear  son's  most  sudden  death,  and  though  we  have 
so  many  more  consolations  mingled  in  our  cup  of  sorrow  than 
parents  frequently  have  in  similar  circumstances,  yet  the  peculiar 
tenderness  we  both  felt  for  our  delicate  son  has  made  this  bereave- 
ment leave  a  deep  mark  upon  us  both. 

We  are  both  very  near  our  journey's  end  (my  age  being  just  two 
years  younger  than  my  husband's),  and  our  thoughts  are  continu- 
ally upon  that  subject.  We  speak  of  death  as  not  a  thing  to  be 
dreaded,  or  a  subject  to  be  avoided.  As  we  have  reason  to  believe 
that  we  have  four  children  with  Jesus,  there  is  much  in  this  to 
attach  our  hearts  above.  Jesus  will  make  our  heaven,  but  other 
things — our  meeting  with  dear  ones — will  add,  as  far  as  will  be 
good  for  us — to  our  blessedness.  What  gratitude  should  we  who 
hope  we  are  Christians  have  in  the  comfort  that  Jesus  has  taken 
the  sting  from  death ! 

I  should  like  to  think  that  this  is  not  the  last  letter  I  shall  receive 
from  you. 

Most  truly  and  affectionately, 

EMILY  MC!LVAINE. 


304  A    TIME   TO   WAIT. 


TO  MRS.  DR.  McCABE. 

"  Right  dear  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord  is  the  death  of  His  saints." — Morning 

Psalter. 

Feb.  24,  1872. 
MY  DEAR  MRS.  McCABE: — 

It  may  be  that  you  and  Dr.  McCabe  already  know  of  the  illness 
of  Mrs.  B.,  and  may  have  visited  her.  I  have  heard  her  speak  of 
you  both  as  her  dearest  friends,  as  preferring  Dr.  McCabe  to  any 
other  minister,  etc.  All  her  family  are  here  but  one  child,  and  I 
am  told  she  peacefully  waits  her  summons  home.  How  sweetly 
this  morning's  Psalms  bear  upon  her  case  !  How  such  "dying  grace 
seems  to  seal  the  blessed  promises!"  The  "yea  and  amen"  to 
fellow-pilgrims  behind,  that  "  His  merciful  kindness  is  ever  more 
and  more  towards  us" — the  Lord  our  help,  strength,  and  song,  and 
our  full  salvation.  • 

I  wonder  if  you  can  "receive"  this  truth,  that  your  kind  little 
note  of  November  has,  in  will  and  unwritten  words,  been  answered 
many,  many  times  through  the  winter?  Winter  to  me  is  only  a 
waiting-time.  Not  sick,  and  not  well,  the  cold  touches  and  holds 
the  spring  of  all  power  and  will.  Sometimes  not  able  to  get  to 
church,  yet  not  sick  at  all.  Can  your  organization  understand 
this? 

The  refreshing  sunshine  and  warmth  of  yesterday  seemed  like 
taking  breath  again !  I  hope  very  soon  to  see  you.  Will  you  put 
this  little  volume*  on  your  shelf  and  let  me  keep  A  Kempis?  The 
title  may  sound  like  "laying  again  the  foundations;"  but  old 
truths  are  herein  presented  in  fresh,  clear,  practical  light.  I  am 
sure  here  and  there  you  will  glean  golden  thoughts.  The  chaff, 
you  see,  is  easily  blown  aside.  The  chapters  on  Intercessory 
Prayer,  Devotional  Reading,  Interruptions  in  our  Work,  Tempta- 
tion, Suffering,  etc.,  are  full  of  good,  helpful  suggestions. 

*  Imitation  of  Christ,  by  Goulbourne.        • 


THE   LOVING    PILOT.  30$ 


TO  MRS.  E.  C...AT  THE  TIME  OF  HER  MOTHER'S  LAST 
SICKNESS. 

"Are  they  not  all  ministering  spirits?" 

DEAR  MRS.  C. : — 

I  feel  as  if  yoilr  sick-room  were  filled  with  unseen  ministry! 
"  About  her  bed,"  even  as  He  has  been  ever  "about  her  path." 
All  our  times  of  sickness  are  arranged  by  Him,  all  the  attending 
circumstances — the  supports  which  are  to  animate,  and  the  discour- 
agements which  are  to  depress  the  sufferer;  and  He  cannot  measure 
out  one  pain  too  much. 

Surely  the  loving  Pilot  who  has  guided  and  directed  the  whole 
voyage,  saving  from  the  rocks,  the  tempest,  and  the  waves,  will 
"never,  no  never  forsake,"  when  the  frail  vessel  seems nearing  the 
haven.  No,  "precious" — right  dear  in  His  sight,  must  be  the 
sick  bed  of  His  children  !  Infinitely  more  than  mother's  tender 
love  hovers  about  them  !  No  sign  of  weariness,  no  moan  of  pain 
escapes  His  ear,  and  though  we  cannot  see  or*  know,  yet  "under- 
neath are  the  Everlasting  Arms." 

May  His  peace  and  rest  be  with  you  all. 

Affectionately, 

J.  H.  P. 


TO  MRS.  PLATT,  FROM  BISHOP  JAGGAR. 

CINCINNATI,  March  14,  1877. 
DEAR  MRS.  PLATT:  — 

Thanks  for  your  comforting  and  sympathetic  letter.  God  only 
knows  how  dark  the  path  through  which  four  bereaved  children 
have  been  led  these  past  few  weeks.  Our  mother  was  home  to  us, 
and  when  she  faded  away  there  was  no  home  left.  I  do  not  think 
the  home  which  we  make  for  our  children  can  ever  take  the  place 
fully  of  our  own  childhood's  home.  But  my  mother  fell  asleep, 
as  she  lived,  in  Jesus;  her  last  words,  "Jesus  Christ  and  Him  cru- 
cified." We  rejoice  that  she  has  entered  into  rest;  but  the  vacant 
place  is  a  dreary  void.  We  can  only  press  forward,  forgetting  the 
things  which  are  behind. 
20 


306  KIND   WORDS   APPRECIATED. 

Your  words  have  done  me  good.     It  is  very  pleasant  to  be  thus 
thought  of. 

Sincerely  your  friend, 

THOS.  A.  JAGGAR. 


FROM  MISS  SNELL,  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  HER  FATHER,  PROF. 
SNELL,  OF  AMI! ERST. 

AMHERST,  MASS.,  April  12,  1877. 
MY  DEAR  FRIEND  : — 

Your  kind  words  of  sympathy  have  been  a  long  time  unan- 
swered, but  were  none  the  less  appreciated 

I  wish  you  could  have  seen  my  father  here  in  his  home,  and 
known  him  in  his  home-life ;  he  always  seemed  to  me  very  re- 
markable in  it ;  and  many  of  our  friends,  when  visiting  here,  have 
spoken  with  surprise  of  it.  We  miss  him  everywhere,  and  all  the 
time ;  but  it  was  so  exactly  as  he  would  wish  to  go,  right  from  the 
midst  of  his  work,  that  I  cannot  but  be  glad  for  him  that  there 
were  no  long  years  of  weary  waiting  when  he  could  not  labor. 
Nothing  could  have  been  more  trying  to  him ;  and  I  think  it  would 
have  been  harder  to  me  than  parting  with  him  to  have  seen  my 
bright,  active  father,  losing  his  powers  year  after  year.  During 
the  last  year  of  his  life  he  had  a  few  ill  turns,  similar  to  this  last 
sickness,  which  were  a  little  warning  to  us  of  what  might  be  coming; 
so  that,  when  the  telegram  reached  me  in  Philadelphia  of  his  ill- 
ness, I  was  immediately  prepared  for  the  result. 

I  shall  love  to  hear  from  you,  should  you  ever  have  time  to  write. 
Yours,  with  very  much  love, 

SABRA  C.  SNELL. 


MRS.    BISHOP   THOMSON.  307 


XXIV. 

"In  their  death  they  were  not  divided." 

Correspondence  with  Mrs.  Anne  E.  Thomson — Beloved,  sympathetic  friends — 
Death  of  Bishop  Thomson  of  the  M.  E.  Church — Oneness  in  all  sorrow — 
Stricken  hearts  comforted — My  little  comfort;  poem  by  Mrs.  T. — Mrs.  Platt's 
last  letter  of  sympathy.  1870-77. 

CORRESPONDENCE  WITH  MRS.  ANNE  E.  THOMSON,  WIDOW  OF 
BISHOP  THOMSON  OF  THE  M.  E.  CHURCH. 

The  following  is  probably  the  last  of  those  notes  of  love  and 
sympathy  that  flowed  so  freely  from  Mrs.  Platt's  pen. 

It  refers  to  the  death  of  Mrs.  Thomson,  which  occurred  July 
29,  1877, — three  weeks  before  that  of  Mrs.  Platt. 

This  letter  is  addressed  to  Mrs.  Thomson's  sister. 

August  6,  1877. 
MY  DEAR  MRS.  WHITLOCK  : — 

I  need  not  try  to  tell  how  my  thoughts  have  been  with  you  in 
your  "house  of  mourning"  all  these  days.  I  know  more  restful, 
quiet,  peaceful  feelings  have  come — come  from  Him  who  has  never 
failed  His  own.  "/  will  not  leave  you  comfortless" — and  he  has 
not,  I  am  very  sure. 

We  should  lose  the  meaning  of  his  touch,  its  ministry  would  fail, 
were  there  not  sharp  pain  in  the  first  "not  joyous  but  grievous" 
moments.  But  there  is  always  sooner  or  later  an  "afterward"  of 
peace  and  rest,  and  an  abiding  nearness  to  Him  who  is  the  soul's 
all  in  all. 

If  this  be  your  first  family  bereavement,  you  will  learn  that  when 
the  pall  of  sorrow  is  let  down  over  a  family,  and  to  the  observer 
only  darkness  and  gloom  is  beneath,  then  to  them  it  is  not  "  the 
darkest  day,"  for  One  is  with  the  afflicted  band  whose  presence  is 


308  BISHOP   THOMSON. 

eternal  day,  and  there  is  "light  in  the  dwelling"  the  world  knows 
not  of. 

I  send  her  last  note.  All  the  summer  her  words  have  lingered, 
and  I  have  thought  of  the  "  homesickness  of  the  soul"  so  sweetly 
mentioned  by  her.  Then  no  matter  the  last  shrinkage  of  the  poor, 
shattered  nervous  system — the  desire  to  wait  longer  here  to  fulfil 
her  Master's  will,  and  train  her  boy  for  His  high  service — the 
body's  thraldom  of  the  spirit — no  matter :  we  know  He  had  long 
been  making  her  meet  for  His  presence,  and  her  soul  stood  all 
ready  to  flee  away,  "to  dwell,"  as  she  said,  "amid  the  permanent 
joys  of  the  '  Beautiful  Beyond.'  ' 

May  God  bless  and  keep  you  all. 

Affectionately  yours, 

J.  H.  PLATT. 

For  some  years  there  existed  a  warm  friendship  between  Mrs. 
Platt  and  the  late  Mrs.  Anne  Thomson,  who  preceded  her  to  the 
heavenly  home  only  three  short  weeks.  This  lady,  the  wife  of 
Rev.  Bishop  Thomson,  of  the  M.  E.  Church,  survived  the  death  of 
her  husband  seven  years.  The  first  of  these  letters,  it  will  be  seen, 
is  one  of  sympathy  at  the  time  of  Bishop  Thomson's  death. 

Different  but  equally  beautiful  types  of  womanhood,  they  were 
most  congenial  in  heart  and  mind.  Mrs.  Thomson's  poetic  tem- 
perament flowed  readily  in  verse,  much  of  which  found  its  way  to 
the  journals  of  the  day.  Her  poems  were  marked  with  tenderness, 
and  with  much  sweetness  and  purity  of  spirit. 

It  is  unfortunate  that  only  a  fragment  of  this  correspondence  can 
be  found. 

Bishop  Thomson  died  in  March,  1870.  The  following  note  of 
sympathy  is  from  Mrs.  Platt  to  Mrs.  Thomson: — 

April  4,  1870. 

"  He  giveth  power  to  the  faint,  and  to  them  that  have  no  might  He  increaseth 
strength." 

Mv  BELOVED  FRIEND: — 

Again  and  again  I  have  said  over  this  little  verse,  thanking  God 
for  seeing  its  truth  so  verified  in  you.  So  it  has  ever  been — so  it 
will  ever  be.  Not  one  word  of  Promise  "hath  failed  of  all  the 
Lord" — our  "Covenant  Keeping  God  has  spoken!" 


THY    MAKER    IS    THY    HUSBAND.  309 

He  will  never  forsake  you.  He  can — He  does — He  will  fill 
every  void. 

I  trust  the  bright  sunshine  of  this  morning  has  come  to  you  as  a 
sweet,  sure  token  from  Him  that  His  presence  will  go  with  you 
through  the  sorrowful  journey,  now  laid  before  your  feet.  Yes, 
laid  before  you.  For  if  it  is  your  duty,  it  is  His  will,  and  your 
present  work  for  Him,  and  He  will  never  leave  you  alone  one 
moment.  "Like  as  a  father  pitieth"  You  have  been  permitted 
to  see  the  workings  of  our  Father's  heart  in  tenderest  solicitude, 
most  loving  care,  and  watchfulness  over  His  children?  God  is  that 
Father  over  you.  "As  the  apple  of  an  eye"  He  watches  and 
guards. 

"  Five  tiny  sparrows  sold  for  a  farthing,"  yet  their  every  want 
provided  by  Him !  so  that  not  one  of  them  can  fall  to  the  ground 
before  its  death-warrant  has  been  signed  by  Him  !  Surely  then, 
we  know  the  minutest  event  of  this  crushing  sorrow  has  been 
planned  and  arranged  by  Infinite  Love.  All  in  the  very  best 
way  for  His  glory,  and  the  highest  happiness  of  all  whom  this  great 
bereavement  touches.  He  Himself  will  bear  you  safely  through. 
"  For"  He,  "  Thy  maker  is  thy  husband,  the  Lord  of  Hosts  is  His 
name,  and  thy  Redeemer  the  Holy  one  of  Israel." 

It  is  the  feeble,  burdened  ones  that  are  ever  "carried  in  His 
bosom." 

I  have  gathered  up  for  you  these  little  books  telling  of  stricken 
hearts  "  comforted  of  God."  For  there  is  oneness  in  all  sorrow — 
over  "  only  a  baby,"  or  the  greatest  loss  earth  can  know.  There 
may  come  one  little  word  of  comfort  meant  for  you  in  them  some- 
how. Just  keep  them,  when  I  want  them  I  will  get  them. 

Almost  every  friend, — in  kind  love,  will  send  some  book.  One 
good  man  says,  "books,  like  a  table  spread  with  good  food,  have 
dishes  prepared  to  suit  and  nourish  different  tastes  and  wants."  So 
in  your  feeble,  weary  state,  after  Godjs  Word,  only  touch  those 
you  "like." 

I  only  meant  to  say  a  word  this  morning.  Excuse  the  trespass 
that  true  love  and  deepest  sympathy  have  made. 

"The  eternal  God  is  thy  refuge,  and  underneath  are  the  Ever- 
lasting Arms." 

"He  hath  said  I  will  never  leave  thee  nor  forsake  thee." 


310  MY   LITTLE   COMFORT. 

"I,  even  I,  am  He  that  comforteth  you."  -The  Lord  ever  com- 
fort, bless,  and  keep  you! 

Your  true  and  loving  friend, 

J.  H.  P. 


One  year  after  her  husband's  death,  Mrs.  Thomson  sent  Mrs. 
Platt  the  following  original  poem: — 

MY  LITTLE  COMFORT. 
BY  MRS.  BISHOP  THOMSON. 

All  weary  with  his  merry  play 

My  little  child  has  sought  my  breast, 

And  here  on  love's  soft  pillow  prest 
Has  sunk  to  peaceful  dreams  away. 

How  lovely  in  my  arms  he  lies  ! 

His  face  so  innocent  and  fair, 

The  firelight  goldening  his  hair, 
And  sleep's  soft  dew  upon  his  eyes. 

I  press  fond  kisses  on  his  brow — 

His  father's  brow,  so  pure  and  calm  ; 

And  peace,  her  soothing,  healing  balm 
Diffuses  o'er  my  spirit  now — 

So  worn,  so  faint,  so  sad  before, 
Beneath  the  shadows  sitting  dumb; 
As  if  it  were  God's  angel  come 

With  tidings  from  the  other  shore; 

i 
That  shore  to  which  my  spirit  turns 

With  longings  that  'twere  vain  to  chide; 

To  stem  affliction's  swelling  tide 
Is  something  which  it  slowly  learns. 

And  often  in  irty  quiet  dreams 

The  faces  of  my  loved  I  see, 

And  hear  sweet  voices  calling  me — 
So  near  the  hill  of  glory  seems. 

Yet  earth  has  still  its  charms  for  me ; 

A  Father's  love  hath  sweetly  smiled, 

In  giving  me  this  little  child, 
A  star  to  cheer  life's  troubled  sea. 


MY   LITTLE   COMFORT.  3!  I 

The  music  of  his  pattering  feet, 

E'en  when  my  soul  is  mute  with  pain, 

Oft  woos  me  back  to  life  again, 
As  something  yet,  all  fair  and  sweet. 

His  voice  like  song  bird's  sweetest  note 

Falls  joyfully  upon  my  ear, 

And  griefs,  like  clouds,  when  May  is  here, 
Beyond  a  far  horizon  float. 

And  when  my  gloom  gives  way  to  tears, 

His  laugh,  like  brooklet's  silvery  tone 

In  autumn  woods  when  birds  have  flown, 
Brings  sunlight  that  both  warms  and  cheers. 

And  climbing  on  my  knees  so  oft 

He  lisps,  as  if  he  guessed  my  pain, 

"  Don't  cry,  dear  papa  '11  come  again ;" 
And  checks  my  tears  with  fingers  soft. 

His  father  often  said  to  me, 

"  Dear  wife,  when  life  with  me  is  done, 

This  babe — our  darling  little  one — 
What  comfort  he  will  be  to  thee!" 

What  comfort!  when  the  coffin  lid 

Shut  out  that  loved  and  saintly  face 

That  gave  to  life  its  crowning  grace, 
I  only  asked  that  I  be  hid 

Within  the  grave's  cold  bosom  too, 

Since  earth  held  nothing  for  me  here. 

My  babe's  soft  voice  smote  on  my  ear, 
In  grief's  dark  sky  a  rift  of  blue. 

And  though  "  my  days  go  on  and  on" 

Beneath  the  shadow  of  a  tomb, 

He  breathes  the  freshness  and  the  bloom 
Of  joys  that  are  forever  gone. 

I  tremble  lest  so  rich  a  boon  , 

Should  dwell  too  largely  in  my  love, 

And  I  forget  the  things  above, 
And  angels  claim  it  all  tox>  soon. 

Blest  Father,  if  thy  will  it  be 

That  thou  by  stripes  my  spirit  heal, 

Give  me  some  other  woe  to  feel 
But  spare  my  one  sweet  babe  to  me  ; 


312  THE  SPARROW'S  VOICE. 

This  dove  here  nestled  on  my  breast, 
Whose  little  cares  with  day  were  done; 
So  like  the  dear  departed  one 

Who  left  me  for  the  purer  rest; 

My  little  comfort  in  the  way 

That 's  grown  so  strangely  dark  to  me  : 
And  I  will  consecrate  to  Thee 

My  life  and  all  I  have  and  may. 

DELAWARE,  OHIO,  March  n,  1871. 


The  following  note  was  in  acknowledgment  of  a  little  poem  sent 
by  Mrs.  Thomson,  called  "The  Sparrow's  Voice." 

DELAWARE,  OHIO,  Jan.  6,  1875. 
MY  DEAR  FRIEND  : — 

I  cannot  touch  your  "  Sparrow's  Voice"  without  starting  tears — 
grateful,  loving,  soothing  tears — so  sweetly  did  your  little  missive 
minister  to  a  burdened  heart. 

I  wanted  to  tell  you  this  long  ago,  but  this  is  the  first  opportu- 
nity. "Little  acts  of  kindness"  do  not  fly  about  our  world  "at 
random  sent,"  but  at  "the  dear  Lord's"  bidding,  who  ever  "  knoweth 
when  one  little  sparrow  falls  to  the  ground."  Ah  !  yes,  yes,  well 
may  we  "  fold  our  wings  wherever  we  happen  to  be  at  twilight,  for 
the  Father  is  always  watching  !" 

So  I  took  the  tiny  book  and  little  sparrow's  song  as  coming 
straight  from  "  the  dear  Lord  caring  for  me."  Many  loving  thanks 
to  the  kind  heart  through  whom  He  sent  it. 

Matt,  x.,  29.  If  there  is  one  verse  of  God's  word  that  has  been 
made  more  precious  than  another,  more  as  the  guiding  star  of  hope 
to  my  life,  it  is  the  above.*  The  sparrow  doctrine,  as  I  have 
always  called  it — I  think  the  blessed  Master  meant  the  lowly,  feeble, 
and  the  not  mighty  ones,  to  take  such  comfort  fr*om  His  words 
about  the  sparrows.  "Two  sold  for  a  farthing;"  "all  over  the 
world  are  found." 

*  This  little  poem,  "  The  Sparrow's  Voice,"  was  found  somewhere  by  Bishop 
Thomson,  and  Mrs.  Thomson  had  it  published  in  tract  form. 

Mrs.  Platt  was  very  fond  of  it,  and  she  used  to  distribute  them  (the  tracts) 
wherever  she  thought  they  would  do  good. 


GIVE   ME   THE   MIND    OF   CHRIST.  313 

God's  intimate  knowledge,  His  loving  care  how  clearly  told  ! 

In  grateful  love, 

J.  H.  P. 


FROM  MRS.  THOMSON  TO  MRS.  PLATT. 

July  12,  1876. 

MRS.  C.  PLATT: — 

DEAR  FRIEND  :  I  have  to-day  finished  reading  your  most  de- 
lightful book,  and,  with  many  grateful  thanks,  return  it. 

I  believe  that  I  can  truly  say  I  have  never  before  read  a  book 
with  more  intense  and  delighted  interest ;  nor  one,  except  the 
"  Book  of  books,"  from  which  I  humbly  and  sincerely  trust  I  have 
derived  more  pure,  spiritual  good. 

What  an  indescribable  charm  there  is  in  a  beautiful,  consecrated 
life  !  There  is  nothing  that  I  desire  in  life  more ;  but  oh !  how 
very,  very  far  I  am  from  possessing  it.  That  four  years  of  wedded 
happiness ;  the  charming  home-life  in  Alton ;  the  death  of  the 
beloved  husband ;  the  silent  dropping  away  of  nearly  every  one 
that  she  loved  on  earth  ;  her  prayers,  her  devotedness ;  her  perfect 
trust  in,  and  submission  to,  her  blessed  Father's  will;  and,  at  last, 
her  own  going  home  to  the  beautiful  beyond ;  how  inexpressibly 
touching  and  beautiful,  even  wonderful  it  all  is !  I  could  not  read 
a  number  of  lines  for  weeping  ;  and  oh  !  how  many,  many  prayers 
I  breathed  for  just  such  a  spirit  as  hers ;  and,  last  night,  in  the  soli- 
tude of  my  own  home,  I  besought  God  to  implant  within  me  the 
mind  of  his  dear  Son, — the  same  that  actuated  every  motive  and 
deed  of  her  life ;  and  promised  that,  henceforth,  my  life,  my 
strength,  and  whatever  talent  I  may  possess,  should  be  devoted 
more  freely  to  His  service.  Oh  !  that  I  may  have  strength  given 
me,  divine  strength,  to  enable  me  to  keep  this  promise ;  I  so  often 
fail  in  my  good  resolutions,  and  promise  of  future  good,  that  I  am 
often  quite  discouraged.  I  think  that  I  have  never  needed  the 
lesson  that  this  sweet  life-story  has  taught  me  more  than  now.  As 
the  "days  go  on  and  on,"  it  seems  more  difficult  for  me  to  walk 
alone,  and  the  end  of  the  road  so  far  away.  I  had  hoped  it  would 
be  different,  but  I  have  never  shed  more  tears  of  heartfelt  loneliness 
than  within  the  past  few  months.  Each  burden  seems  heavier,  and 


314  SPIRIT   LONGINGS    FOR   JOY. 

I 

each  time  more  severe  ;  and  I  am  often -so  hungry  for  the  tender, 
beautiful  affection  that  was  mine  but  four  short  years.  I  premise, 
though,  if  I  had  more  of  the  love  of  Him  who  is  all  love  and 
compassion,  I  might  suffer,  and  yet  "  learn  how  sublime  a  thing  it 
is  to  suffer  and  grow  strong."  Pray  for  me,  dear  friend,  that  His 
grace  may  be  given  me ;  and  every  other  gift  and  grace  that  may 
give  me,  if  even  but  a  faint  resemblance  to  her  whose  memorial  I 
have  read  with  the  purest,  sweetest  pleasure. 

Again,  and  yet  again,  I  thank  you  for  the  pleasure  you  have 
given  me  in  this  precious  book  ;*  and  may  you  yet  witness  some  of 
its  fruits  in  my  own  life. 

Affectionately, 

MRS.  A.  E.  THOMSON. 


DELAWARE,  May  30, 1877. 
MY  DEAR  MRS.  PLATT:  — 

At  last  I  am  glad  to  return  to  your  possession  your  most  beautiful 

book.     I  fear  you  may  have  needed  it.     Mrs.  B ,  for  whom  I 

borrowed  it,  being  a  teacher  in  the  Female  College,  finds  but  little 
time  for  reading;  and,  as  this  is  a  large  volume,  she  was  not  able 
to  finish  it  sooner.  Hence  the  delay  to  return  it.  She  expresses 
herself  as  delighted  with  the  story,  and  desires  to  possess  a  copy 
of  her  own. 

I  trust  it  may  fall  with  such  a  blessing  on  others'  lives  as  it  has 
on  mine.  Its  sweet,  pure  influence  is  about  me  day  by  day. 

I  trust  that  you  are  well,  and  able  to  drink  in  the  inspiration 
afforded  by  these  perfect  days. 

It  is  strange,  while  yet  so  sweet ;  they,  too,  are  saddening.  Some 
one  has  beautifully  said,  that  these  longings,  that  steal  over  our 
spirits  in  these  lovely  spring  days,  are  the  desires  the  spirit  feels  to 
dwell  amid  the  permament  joys  of  the  "beautiful  beyond."  I 
believe  it. 

Affectionately, 

MRS.  ANNE  E.  THOMSON. 

*  "  Memorials  of  a  Quiet  Life,"  by  Augustus  L.  C.  Hare. 


OBITUARY.  315 


XXV. 

"  If  ye  loved  me  ye  would  rejoice,  because  I  go  to  my  Father." 

• 

Obituary — Closing  days — Instruction  for  burial — 1877 — Private  papers  to  her 
husband.     1848. 

THE  closing  days  of  Mrs.  Platt's  life  are  well  described  in  the 
obituary  notice  prepared  by  a  dear  and  loving  friend,  from  which 
we  make  the  following  extracts  : — 

The  early  advantages  she  enjoyed,  both  in  her  home 
and  under  such  ministries  as  those  of  Drs.  Bedell  and  Tyng,  were 
improved  by  her  in  a  very  beautiful  culture  of  both  mind  and 
heart ;  and  the  channels  of  thought,  then  cut  deep,  have  ever 
since  flowed  out  with  a  richness  and  beauty  that  have  charmed,  as 
well  as  made  better,  all  with  whom  she  has  associated.  She  held 
an  easy,  graceful  pen  ;  and  if,  with  her  clear  perceptions  of  truth, 
and  the  power  of  rich  and  abundant  language  with  which  she  was 
endowed,  her  path  had  led  out  into  literary  fields,  she  could  have  writ- 
ten her  name  there,  too,  in  no  unenvied  place.  But  it  was  with  very 
marked  and  rare  grace  that  she  turned  from  all  this,  to  wear  even 
more  proudly  the  crown  of  wife  and  motherhood.  Her  virtues 
many,  like  a  string  of  valued  pearls  worn  gracefully  through  life, 
have  been  left  to  her  children  undimmed  dnd  without  one  tarnish. 

Her  sickness  was  of  little  more  than  a  week's  duration  ;  at  first 
not  regarded  serious,  but,  four  days  before  her  death,  assuming 
dangerous  symptoms.  She  seemed  to  know  from  the  first  she 
would  not  survive ;  but  death  held  in  it  no  alarm  for  one  so  ripe 
for  heaven,  and  she  calmly  talked  of  it  to  her  weeping  husband 
and  children,  as  if  she  were  only  going  a  little  before  to  some  new 
home,  where  she  expected  soon  to  welcome  them  all  so  gladly  once 
more ;  and  while  her  enjoyment  of  life,  with  its  innocent  pleasures, 


316  HOME   AT   LAST. 

was  intense,  and  her  attachment  to  family  and  friends  stronger 
than  words  could  express,  yet  so  clear  and  comprehensive  were 
her  conceptions  of  the  inexpressible  joys  and  pleasures  of  life  with 
Christ  in  the  glory  beyond,  that  she  was  ever  ready  to  go  when 
He  should  call.  This  was  beautifully  evidenced  during  her  later 
hours,  when,  with  radiant  face,  she  raised  up  and  said,  "O,  I 
should  so  dearly  love  to  stay  with  you  all  a  little  longer,  but  I  am 
willing  to  go;  I  am  ready." 

Soon  after  this  her  eyes  were  fixed  intently  upward  for  some 
moments,  as  if  permitted  a  view  of  the  beautiful  and  glorious  home 
awaiting  her, — giving  no  heed  to  the  question,  "What  do  ypu  see, 
my  dear?"  There  then  burst  forth  from  her  lips,  as  if  by  inspira- 
tion, "  Shekinah  !  Shekinah  !  Shekinah  !"  These  were  her  last ; 
she  had  no  "  parting  words"  of  admonition, — they  were  faithfully 
given  all  along  the  path  of  life. 

This  community,  with  her  family,  stand  to-day  bereaved  ;  and 
in  homes  all  over  our  city,  where  this  ministry  of  her  love  has  been 
felt  in  the  past,  an  answering  chord  of  sympathy  has  been  struck, 
which  tells  of  other  hearts  that  ache,  and  that  will  miss  in  the 
future  the  beautiful  friendship  that  was  ever  fully  worthy  of  a  place 
beside  her  home-loves.  Yes  !  sweet  friend,  we  will  miss  you  ;  the 
hand  we  have  just  laid  down  was  joined  in  such  a  close  fellowship 
of  joys  and  sorrows  that  the  years  will  seem  long  in  which  we  will 
wait  for  you. 

And  thus  passed  away  this  beautiful  life  at  eleven  o'clock  on  the 
morning  of  Tuesday,  August  21,  1877. 

Thursday,  23. 

The  body  of  our  precious  one  was  gently  laid  in  the  grave  by 
loving  hands  at  that  still  and  quiet  hour 

"  When  shadows  lengthen,  and  the  sun 

Is  parting  from  the  sky;" 
there  to 

"  Rest  from  labors  wrought  from  dawn  lo  set  of  sun, 
From  work  that  only  ended  when  another  was  begun," 

and  there  to  await  the  resurrection  in  the  last  day,  when  it  shall 
come  forth  a  more  beautiful — a  glorified  body. 


INSTRUCTIONS   FOR    BURIAL.  317 

The  burial  services  were  conducted  in  accordance  with  her  own 
wishes,  as  expressed  in  a  paper  written  by  her  several  years  ago — 
indorsed  on  the  outside  "  Private  paper  for  my  husband  concerning 
burial. — JEANETTE  PLATT."  A  copy  of  it  is  here  given:  — 

PRIVATE   PAPER. 

Sunday,  July  25,  1852. 

I  have  been  spared  from  expected  sickness  another  week.  What 
more  does  m y  soul  desire  this  day  but  in  the  holy  words,  "My 
soul  cleaveth  unto  the  dust;  quicken  Thou  me  according  to  thy 
word." 

How  every  moment,  even  some  midnight  hours,  have  been  filled 
with  anxiety  to  set  my  earthly  house  in  order  before  my  confine- 
ment, to  have  every  want  of  my  beloved  husband  and  precious 
children  anticipated  and  supplied.  Now,  when  the  Sabbath  comes, 
where  is  the  same  peal,  where  the  "  lifting  up  of  the  head  unto  the 
hills"  for  heavenly  aid  to  set  my  spiritual  house  in  order!  Ah, 
"my  soul  cleaveth  unto  the  dust,  but  quicken  thou  me,  O  Lord !" 

In  my  Daily  Food  for  yesterday  was  the  confession  of  David's 
hope,  "I  said,  I  will  confess  my  transgression  unto  the  Lord;  and 
Thou  forgavest  the  iniquity  of  my  sin."  Here  is  my  hope — through 
Jesus  Christ  my  Lord. 

Rev.  vii.,  14,  15.  This  verse  for  to-day  is  the  one  I  have  often 
thought  I  should  wish  used  in  mentioning  me  as  "absent  from  the 
body."  I  should  wish  no  honor  paid  to  my  perishing  body,  only 
in  the  constant  remembrance  that  soon  it  shall  be  made  a  "glorious 
body,"  "like  His."  I  would  have  every  one  who  loves  me  re- 
member that  I  am  absent  from  the  body,  present  with  the  Lord. 
I  would  wish  no  funeral  hymns  sung  to  speak  of  the  grave  and 
death;  but  let  the  life  and  light  of  the  Glorious  Resurrection  swell 
every  heart  with  praise  and  heavenly  hope,  as  joyful  voices  in  joy- 
fulness  sing 

"  Who  are  these  in  bright  array, 
This  innumerable  throng, 
Round  the  altar  night  and  day 
Tuning  their  triumphant  song?" 

Hymn  201. 


31 8  HELPED    AND    COMFORTED. 

MY  CHOSEN  TEXT. 

"  They  have  washed  their  robes,  and  made  them  white  in  the  blood  of  the 
Lamb.  Therefore  afe  they  before  the  throne  of  God." — Rev.  vii.,  14,  15. 

I  would  wish  no  service  of  any  kind  at  the  house.  In  silence 
let  my  friends  meet  and  bear  the  body  to  God's  house.  Follow 
the  freed  spirit. 

J.  HULME  PLATT. 

This  paper  was  inclosed  in  another,  on  which  was  written  as 
follows:  — 

May  19,  1873. 

I  have  opened  to-day  this  "Private  paper."  Wonderfully  has 
God  helped  me  and  comforted  me  on  every  side  since  penning 
those  words  nearly  twenty-one  years  ago ! 

I  indorse  what  I  then  said — every  word  concerning  my  burial, 
whenever  it  shall  please  God  to  call  me  hence. 

"Absent  from  the  body,  present  with  the  Lord,"  I  trust  through 
His  abounding  grace  in  Jesus  Christ  our  loving  Lord. 

JEANETTE  H.  PLATT. 

I  want  nothing  upon  my  stone  but 

"  JEANETTE  PLATT, 
WIFE  OF  CYRUS  PLATT." 


In  the  summer  of  1848,  Mrs.  Platt  placed  in  my  hands  a  sealed 
letter,  with  this  inscription  written  on  the  envelope : — 

"Not  to  be  opened  till  earth's  deepest  sorrow  rests  upon  Cyrus 
or  Jeanette. 

SUNNY  COTTAGE,  DELAWARE,  O., 
May  1 8,  1848." 

It  was  carefully  laid  away,  and  not  opened  until  some  weeks  after 
she  had  entered  into  rest.  It  was  written  three  months  previous  to 
the  birth  of  her  eldest  child,  and  reads  as  follows: — 


PRAYER.  319 

"  SUNNY  COTTAGE,"  Friday  afternoon,  May  18,  1848. 

I  have  opened  this  package  of  my  letters  [probably  letters  to  her 
husband  previous  to  marriage],  and  my  eye  has  again,  for  the  first 
time,  glanced  upon  that  written  those  months  ago.  Words  can 
never  tell  the  rush  of  feelings.  Before  our  Father's  throne,  in  that 
Ear  that  alone  can  hearken  to  the  heart's  inmost  depths,  I  have 
poured  out  my  burdened  soul — Lord,  bless  us,  yet  further  bless  us'; 
sanctify  us,  all  that  we  are,  all  that  we  shall  ever  have  to  Thy  own 
glory  !  Spare  us  to  each  other — this  precious  gift  of  mutual,  earthly 
love  ;  Thy  gift,  yet  more  and  more  binding  our  souls  to  Thee.  But, 
Father,  not  our  will,  but  Thine  be  done  !  Separated  at  thy  call, 
one  to  enter  into  that  glory  prepared  for  those  who  love  Thee 
above ;  the  other  to  more  glorify  Thee  below,  meekly  bearing  the 
cross  given  by  a  Saviour's  loving  hand.  God  bless  that  one  ! 
Bless  him  as  I  know  Thou  canst  bless  the  bleeding,  broken  heart ! 
He  that  taketh  one  can,  will  uphold  the  other.  Yes,  can  abun- 
dantly supply  "all  need."  Oh,  how  thou  hast  blessed  us  !  Sweet- 
est, deepest,  purest  wedded  love,  sanctified  by  every  spiritual  bless- 
ing Thou  hast  given  us,  making  us  one  in  Thee.  Thine  we  are ; 
Thine  be  all  we  shall  ever  have  !  Our  babe  unborn — Thine  before 
its  birth,  the  workmanship  of  Thy  hand — oh,  take  it  to  Thyself 
before  I  know  a  mother's  love,  or  give  it  to  me  to  behold  Thy 
saving  love  upon  it  through  each  of  its  earthly  years.  It  is,  oh 
make  it,  wholly  Thine. 

JEANETTE  PLATT. 


320  SYMPATHY. 


XXVI. 

"  That  ye  may  be  able  to  comfort  them  which  are  in  any  trouble." 

Sympathy — Consolation — Letters  from  James  C.,  Dr.  Merrick,  Mrs.  La  Croix, 
Dr.  Damon,  Rev.  C.  T.  W.,  Bishop  Jaggar. 

FROM  numerous  letters,  expressive  of  sympathy,  received  after 
our  dear  one  had  entered  into  rest,  the  following  are  selected  for 
their  valuable  testimony  to  her  true  Christian  character :  — 

FROM  JAMES  CANFIELD. 

LAWRENCE,  KAN.,  Aug.  21,  1877. 
MY  DEAR  UNCLE  : — 

What  can  I  say — how  can  I  write?  Were  I  with  you  I  could  do 
no  more  than  let  the  grasp  of  the  hand  and  tearful  eyes  tell  their 
own  story  of  sympathy  and  affection,  of  which  I  know  you  do  not 
need  assurance.  And  now,  eight  hundred  miles  away,  with  but 
this  poor  medium  of  ink  and  paper,  my  pen  falters  over  words 
that  must  seem  only  too  formal  and  cold. 

I  feel  as  though  I  could  never  open  another  telegram.  So  sud- 
den— so  most  entirely  removed  from  any  thought  or  dream  of 
mine — it  came  like  a  flash  from  a  clear  sky.  Aunt  Jennie's  fresh- 
ness and  vivacity,  her  heart-youth,  her  very  loveliness  of  nature 

and  character,  which  so  drew  all  to  her,  and  which  must  have  been 

« 

the  great  comfort  and  inspiration  of  your  own  life  in  many  a  trying 
hour, — all  these  seemed  perennial,  as  though  they  could  never 
cease  to  be  with  us  and  for  us.  It  seems  like  the  "untimely"  end, 
rather  than  the  gathering  in  of  the  ripened  sheaf. 

Yet  the  precious  legacy  of  her  life  and  death  !  So  pure,  so 
trusting,  so  faithful,  so  unselfish ;  such  continual  reliance  on  Him 
who  alone  can  now  comtort  and  strengthen  you ;  such  devotion  to 
His  service  and  His  truth ;  such  an  earnest  striving  to  follow  the 


AN    IRREPARABLE    LOSS.  321 

dear  Masfer ;  such  perfect  and  childlike  faith  ;  such  a  quiet  resting 
on  His  promises ;  such  unmurmuring  submission  to  His  will ;  rare, 
indeed, — almost  unequalled.  The  longer  I  live  without  her,  the 
more  I  think  of  her;  the  more  her  whole  character  grows  upon 
me ;  the  more  does  the  loss  of  my  own  dear  mother  grow  upon 
me.  Can  I  say  more  or  better  than  to  write  how  much  alike  these 
two  dear  sisters  seem  to  me,  and  how  keenly  this  later  loss  recalls 

the  first 

You  are  constantly  in  our  mind  and  prayers.  We  send  most 
sorrowful,  yet  loving,  greetings  to  you  all.  May  God  bless,  com- 
fort, and  keep  you  ;  lift  up  the  light  of  His  countenance  upon  you ; 
and  give  you  peace,  both  now  and  evermore.  Amen,  (r  Thess. 
iv.  13). 

From  one  who  was  a  member  of  our  family  for  a  few  weeks  while 
attending  college. 

August  24,  1877. 

9 

I  have  just  learned  of  your  great  bereavement,  and  hasten  to 
send  a  line  of  sympathy,  though  it  amounts  to  so  little  in  your 
deep  grief.  I  deeply  regret  I  did  not  get  around  to  see  Mrs.  Platt 
when  I  was  last  in  town.  Meeting  so  many  old  students  at  Com- 
mencement absorbed  what  little  time  I  had. 

Every  one  will  bear  testimony  to  the  rare  charms  of  person, 
mind,  and  heart,  which  characterized  Mrs.  Platt.  Her  spirit  was 

like  a  poem May  God  bless  you,  and  temper  the 

stroke,  as  He  only  can. 

Affectionately, 

J.  M.  DE  C . 


FROM  DR.  AND  MRS.  MERRICK. 

DELAWARE,  August  24,  1877. 
MR.  CYRUS  PLATT  AND  FAMILY  :  — 

VERY  DEAR  FRIENDS:  We  hesitate  to  obtrude  ourselves  upon 
your  notice  at  such  a  time  of  deep  and  sacred  sorrow,  and  yet  we 
desire  to  express  our  sincere  sympathy  with  you  in  your  irreparable 
loss.  God  has  taken  from  you  the  light  of  your  eyes  and  the  joy 
of  your  hearts.  But  it  is  the  Lord,  and  shall  He  not  be  allowed 

21 


322  COMFORT. 

to  do  what  seemeth  to  Him  good  ?     If  earth  is  less  to  you  hence- 
forth,  heaven  will  be   all  the  dearer.     You  have  an  additional 
motive  to  live  for  that  better  world.     God  comfort  you  in  this  your 
great  trial,  and  sanctify  it  to  your  highest  good. 
Most  sincerely  yours, 

F.  AND  F.  S.  MERRICK. 


FROM  REV.   C.  T.  WOODRUFF. 

NEW  YORK,  Aug.  30, 1877. 
MY  DEAR  MR.  PLATT  : — 

My  thoughts  and  prayers  are  continually  of  and  for  you  and 
your  desolate  family,  for  I  feel  myself  a  large  share  in  your  grief, 
and  mourn  for  Mrs.  Platt  as  one  might  do  for  an  only  sister.  With 
the  exception  of  my  loved  wife,  no  person  living  could,  by  departure, 
cause  such  a  void  as  she  has  made.  Such  a  combination  of  rare 
excellences  I  never  saw  among  all  my'  friends  and  acquaintances  ; 
*and  she  realized  my  ideal  of  all  that  human  nature  is  capable  of  being 
in  the  sphere  of  her  life.  Seeing  and  knowing  what  I  did  of  her,  of 
yourself,  of  your  children,  I  have  often  fancied  what  the  joy  and  love 
of  the  family  circle  must  have  been,  and  have  longed  to  look  in 
upon  you  and  enjoy  it  with  you.  And  now  I  would  fain  come  to 
you  in  your  bereavement,  and  pour  into  your  bleeding  hearts  some 
drops  of  precious  consolation.  It  is  comfort  that  you  need,  I 
know ;  comfort,  that  lays  her  gentle  hand  upon  the  quivering 
chords  of  the  torn  heart,  and  hushes  them  to  peace,  taking  away 
the  sting  of  death.  Our  God  is  "the  God  of  all  comfort;"  "a 
very  present  help  in  trouble."  He  does  not  keep  trouble  from  us, 
but  He  is  ever  present  to  help,  and  therein  is  abundant  comfort. 
And  then  it  comes  to  pass  that  the  loss  of  our  loved  ones  gives  us 
a  deeper  sense  of  the  value  of  the  Gospel — I  mean  the  Gospel  as 
a  whole.  It  is  found,  at  such  times,  to  possess  attractions,  and 
to  yield  consolations  which  the  world  cannot  offer.  When  a  gloom 
rests  upon  all  surrounding  things,  and  a  sense  of  want  almost  op- 
presses us ;  when  the  house  is  desolate,  though  full  of  friends ; 
when  the  life  of  the  house  has  departed,  and  darkness  hangs  over 
the  vacant  seat,  then  the  fulness  of  the  Gospel  is  realized  ;  then  it 
is  seen  that  the  heart,  though  torn  open  as  by  violence,  cannot  be 
opened  too  wide  for  the  grace  of  God  to  fill.  Then  its  precious 


PRECIOUS  GOSPEL  PROMISES.  323 

truths  break  upon  our  vision  with  all  the  freshness  and  power  of  a 
new  revelation.  It  is  wonderful  how  the  Gospel  adapts  itself  to  all 
conditions  of  our  life,  so  that  we  find  something  written,  as  it  were, 
expressly  for  us,  in  the  very  circumstances  of  the  moment.  We 
seem  not  to  know  the  exceeding  richness  of  the  promises  till,  in 
the  hour  of  sorrow,  they  fill  us  with  inexpressible  comfort.  Take 
the  one  sweet  promise,  that  "  they  who  sleep  in  Jesus,  God  will 
bring  with  Him  at  the  last  day;"  "  and  so  shall  they  be  ever  with 
the  Lord."  It  assures  us  that,  if  we  are  of  that  happy  number,  we 
and  they  shall  live  with  each  other,  and  all  together  with  Him. 
It  is  God's  comfort.  His  way,  among  others,  of  cheering  our 
bruised  and  sorrowing  spirits,  of  banishing  every  feeling  of  sad- 
ness, and  making  us  joy  even  in  the  presence  of  death  in  our  loved 
circle  !  Blessed  be  God  for  comfort ! 

I  would  not  weary  you,  but  hearts  are  alike,  and  what  has  been 
a  source  of  comfort  to  me  may  be  such  to  you, — only  I  cannot  say 
a  tithe  of  what  is  in  my  heart.  The  event  has  come  to  us  "  like  a 
bolt  from  a  clear  sky,"  and  we  are  almost  benumbed  by  it  yet.  I 
am,  indeed,  a  mourner  with  you ;  and  yet  I  am  comforted,  and, 
as  I  said,  I  would  fain  bring  you  sweet  comfort,  so  that  you  shall 
say,  "The  Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord  hath  taken  away;  blessed  be 
the  name  of  the  Lord  !"  Lift  up  your  heads,  dear  heart- friends; 
the  loved  one  has  only  fallen  asleep  in  Jesus;  and,  "  if  she  sleep, 
she  shall  do  well."  Let  us  press  on  to  join  her  when  she  wakes, 
and  enter  with  her  into  the  fulness  of  heaven's  eternal  joy. 
With  kindest  sympathy  and  love,  truly  yours, 

.  C.  T.  WOODRUFF, 


FROM  MRS.  LACROIX. 

•Wednesday,  A.  M.,  August,  1877. 
MR.  PL  ATT  : —      .  « 

In  her  endeavor  to  console  others  in  affliction,  your  dear  wife 
sent  me  this  little  book*  only  a  few  days  ago.  It  accomplished  for 
my  heart,  in  a  great  measure,  that  which  she  hoped  it  would. 
Although,  on  first  hearing  of  her  sickness,  and  then  of  her  death, 
it  pained  me  to  think  that  I  had  not  acknowledged  her  kindness 

*  "Agnes  and  the  Little  Key." 


324  A    MEMENTO    OF    COMFORT. 

before  it  was  too  late  for  her  to  know  my  appreciation  of  it ;  yet 
now  I  am  glad  to  bring  to  your  desolated  heart  the  fact  that,  among 
her  last  acts,  was  this  one  of  consoling  one  who  was  just  passing 
under  the  rod. 

She  has  gone  to  the  world  of  consolation, — or,  perhaps,  it  were 
better  said,  to  the  world  where  they  need  no  consolation  ;  and  this, 
for  the  same  reason,  that  they  need  no  light  of  the  sun.  I  never 
met  her  much,  but  I  met  her  most  years  ago,  around  the  death- 
cradle  of  a  poor  little  brain-suffering  babe,  in  an  old  upper  chamber 
of  the  very  poor.  Both  of  our  hearts  were  wrung  for  that  little 
sufferer  and  for  its  mother.  The  three  babes,  and  one  of  the 
mothers  at  least,  are  safe.  I  rejoice  to  think  she  now  has  the  sweet 
privilege  of  solving  the  mysteries  that  surrounded  her  little  one 
gone  before. 

This  inclosed  note  of  hers  to  me  I  had  laid  away  among  my 
mementos  of  comfort,  on  laying  away  our  "  angel  of  the  house- 
hold ;"  but  I  feel  now  that  it  belongs  to  you,  as  perhaps  the  last 
words  she  penned.  For  a  close  to  this,  may  I  refer  you  to  the  last 
paragraph  in  her  note  to  me  ?  It  is  more  valuable  for  being  written 
with  her  own  hand,  to  you.  We  should  be  comforted,  since  she 
has  awakened  in  the  likeness  that  satisfies. 

Yours  in  sympathy, 

C.  A.  LACROIX. 


This  is  the  note  referred  to  by  Mrs.  Lacroix : — 

• 

Wednesday,  A.  M. 
DEAR  MRS.  LACROIX: — 

Are  not  the  sacred  words  true,  when  "  one  member  suffers,  all 
the  members  suffer  with  it"  ?  So  my  sympathy  has  been  with  you 
in  your  present  sorjow, — very  near;  for  have  I  not,  too,  one  little 
babe  waiting  for  me  in  the  arms  of  Jesus,  "the  Good  Shepherd"? 
I  take  the  liberty  of  sending  this  old  book,  "Agnes,"  because 
its  words  had  great  comfort  for  me  once. 

May  our  covenant-keeping  God  sustain  and  comfort  you  with 
His  own  precious  comfort. 

In  Christian  fellowship,  Yours, 

J.  H.  PLATT. 


WITHIN    THE   VEIL.  325 

FROM  REV.  S.  C.  DAMON. 

HONOLULU,  Sept.  20,  1877. 
MR.  PLATT: — 

MY  DEEPLY  AFFLICTED  FRIEND  : 

By  yesterday's  mail  we  received  the  two  newspapers  announcing 
the  most  unexpected  intelligence  of  the  death  of  your  dearly 
beloved  and  highly  gifted  wife.  I  hardly  know  with  what  words 
to  express  my  own  sympathy  and  that  of  Mrs.  Damon  to  you  and 
your  deeply  afflicted  family  of  sons  and  daughters. 

The  long  story  of  our  acquaintance  is,  as  you  know,  peculiar. 
It  is  now  just  thirty-nine  years  since  I  became  acquainted  with 
Jeanette  and  Martha  Hulme;  and  with  both  of  them  it  was  my 
privilege  to  carry  forward  a  correspondence  almost  to  the  very  day 
of  their  resting  from  their  earthly  toils  and  labors.  Their  frequent 
and  choice  letters  have  often  gladdened  my  heart,  and  cheered 
me  forward  amid  the  duties  and  cares-  of  life.  They  were  both  to 
me  all  that  two  dear  sisters  could  have  been ;  and  I  can  hardly 
realize  that  both  have  passed  within  the  veil. 

As  your  dear  wife  survived  her  sister  Martha  so  many  years,  of 
course  our  correspondence  has  been  more  recent  and  fresh ;  and 
yet,  in  the  very  last  letter,  dated  only  6th  of  July  last,  she  alludes 
to  that  sister  in  the  most  tender  manner.  You  recollect  I  sent  her 
one  of  her  sister  Martha's  old  letters.  She  thanked  me  for  that 
letter  of  1833.  adding:  "How  like  her  own  heart  this  letter! 
How  long  it  seems  since  she  went  away  !  O  how  very  much  longer 
than  the  time  until  we  meet !  When  she  was  called  home,  what 
heart-loneliness  was  mine  !  I  remember  saying  to  Dr.  Tyng, 
"  How  can  I  get  on  without  this  sister?  I  did  not  know  what 
comfort-sharers  in  joys  and  sorrows — sunbeams  all  about  my  path — 
were  growing  up  at  my  side.  These  dear  children,  these  daughters, 
so  much  more  than  sisters  could  be  !  And  you  and  Mrs.  Damon 
are  becoming  rich  in  daughters." 

Jeanette  and  Martha  have  passed  onward  and  within  the  veil, 
and  are  now  enjoying  what  they  anticipated  with  so  much  joy  for 
so  many  years.  I  shall  never  repeat,  or  hear  repeated,  the  old 
Hebrew  word,  Shekinah,  without  having  the  scene  around  the 
dying  bed  of  your  sainted  wife  recalled  to  mind.  She  is  now  in 
the  presence  of  her  and  our  Saviour. 


326  KINDLY    REMEMBRANCE. 

• 

Already  the  notice  cut  from  the  "  Standard  of  the  Cross"  is 
inclosed  in  a  letter  to  my  son  Frank,  to  whom  your  dear  wife 
alluded  most  tenderly  in  her  last  letter.  She  loved  him  and  he 
loved  her.  They  understood  and  sympathized  with  each  other. 
His  last  visit  to  Delaware  will  long  be  remembered  by  him,  and  I 
am  sure  he  will  be  a  true  mourner,  and  I  shall  be  disappointed  if 
he  does  not  write  you  or  your  daughters,  and  convey  his  sentiments 
in  language  more  choice  and  tender  than  mine. 

Your  daughters  and  sons  will  regard  themselves  as  jointly  ad- 
dressed in  this  letter,  in  which  Mrs.  Damon  and  Willie  join 
with  me. 

Should  any  more  extended  notice  be  ever  published  relating  to 
your  dear  companion,  I  hope  you  will  not  fail  to  send  it  to  my 
address. 

I  want  especially  to  be  remembered  to  your  two  daughters,  whom 
it  was  my  privilege  to  accompany  down  the  Delaware  River  the 
morning  I  visited  Philadelphia  for  the  last  time.  My  first  visit  to 
that  city  of  "Brotherly  Love"  is  associated  with  Jeanette  and 
Martha  in  1839,  and  my  last  in  1876,  with  your  two  daughters,  so 
much  resembling  the  former,  in  years  long  gone  past. 

It  will  always  afford  me  great  pleasure  to  receive  letters  from 
you  or  any  of  your  family.  Do  not  imagine  my  interest  in  your 
family  will  cease  now  that  the  one  is  removed  who  formed  the 
centre  of  attraction,  esteem,  and  love. 

As  a  mail  leaves  to-morrow,  I  have  hastened  to  tender  to  you 
and  your  family  my  warmest  expression  of  sympathy  in  this  season 
of  your  very  great  affliction. 


FROM  BISHOP  JAGGAR. 

CINCINNATI,  Jan.  8,  1878. 
MY  DEAR  MR.  PLATT  : — 

I  have  had  you  in  mind  and  heart  ever  since  I  learned  of  your 
noble  wife's  departure.  The  first  tidings  only  reached  me  in  Bos- 
ton, and  surprised  me  greatly.  I  tried  to  see  Mrs.  Mitchell  and 
failed.  Since  then,  hoping  to  see  you  in  person,  I  have  delayed 
writing.  But,  as  I  must  now  defer  my  visit  to  Delaware  until  spring, 
I  cannot  forbear  writing  you, — not  in  formal  condolence,  but  to 


ENTERED    INTO    REST.  327 

• 

let  you  know  how  much  I  have  felt  for  you,  and  how  much  I  have 
thought  of  your  wife's  pure  face,  winning  ways,  intelligent  and 
sympathetic  nature.  She  was  the  first  to  welcome  me  to  Ohio,  and,, 
through  her,  I  received  pleasant  impressions  of  my  new  work  and 
field.  Her  kind  letters  I  shall  keep  with  special  interest.  Her  last 
one  was  full  of  motherly  sympathy,  and  showed  her  peculiar  intel- 
ligence. The  article  in  the  "  Standard"  was  a  true  picture  of  her. 
I  cannot  realize  that  I  shall  not  see  her  when  I  go  to  Delaware.  I 
have  but  few  friends  who  really  enter  into,  and  understand  with  a 
personal  interest,  my  trials  and  perplexities.  I  always  felt  that 
Mrs.  Platt  was  one  of  the  few. 

We  know  that  she  has  entered  into  rest.  You  do  not  need  con- 
solation from  human  friends,  for  you  know  who  can  be  "touched 
with  the  feeling  of  our  infirmities."  But  I  felt  that  I  must  testify 
to  you  of  my  own  sense  of  loss,  though  I  have  been  reluctant  to 
do  it  by  letter,  hoping  to  do  it  personally. 

I  met  your  daughter  in  Cincinnati,  and  had  mingled  sorrow  and 
joy  in  seeing  her.     You  must  miss  her  especially  now. 
I  am  sincerely  your  friend, 

THOS.  A.  JAGGAR. 


328  JEANETTE    AND    MARTHA. 


XXVII. 

"  Them  that  honor  me  I  will  honor,  saith  the  Lord." 

Tributes  from  S.  C.  D — A  sister's  tribute,  poem — From  Mrs.  R.,  Mrs.  E.  V.  F., 
E.  H.  C.— Mrs.  A.  T.,  a  beautiful  picture— J.  H.  C.,  F.  W.  D.,  music  and 
poetry — Her  life  a  lesson  and  inspiration — From  a  student — Deep  sorrow — A 
model  wife — Ladies'  Missionary  Society,  Mrs.  J.  H.  Platt  scholarship — H.  C. 
M. — E.  G.  H. — S.  R.  B  — Reminiscences,  strong  Christian  principle,  consid- 
eration for  the  aged — Original  poem. 

TRIBUTES  TO  THE  EXCELLENCES  OF  MRS.  PLATTS 
CHARACTER. 

THE  Rev.  S.  C.  Damon,  D.  D.,  of  Honolulu,  sent  this  tribute 
to  the  memory  of  Mrs.  Platt,  and  her  loving  and  devoted  sister  :  — 

"In  paying  this  tribute  to  the  memory  of  Mrs.  Platt,  of  Dela- 
ware, I  am  naturally  led  to  make  a  passing  allusion  to  her  sisters, 
but  especially  to  Mrs.  Canfield,  of  Brooklyn.  These  two  sisters, 
Jeanette  and  Martha,  were  nearly  of  the  same  age,  and  pre-emi- 
nently attached  to  each  other  even  as  sisters.  As  I  recall  the  Hulme 
family,  as  it  existed  nearly  forty  years  ago  in  Burlington,  New 
Jersey,  these  two  sisters  were  most  charming  ornaments  to  the 
Quaker  household,  in  which  thee  and  thou  characterized  the  de- 
lightful social  intercourse,  and  which,  to  the  young  theological 
student,  I  confess,  had  a  peculiar  .charm  and  attraction.  Jeanette 
was  the  older  of  the  two  sisters,  talented  and  vivacious,  less  poet- 
ical and  ideal,  but  rather  more  practical ;  hence  the  leading  genius 
in  domestic  affairs,  usually  presiding  at  the  tea-table.  It  was  a  rare 
privilege  to  the  comparative  stranger  to  enjoy  the  society  of  such 
a  refined,  religious,  and  cultured  family.  The  sisters  often  re- 
minded me  of  the  two  once  dwelling  in  Bethany,  respecting  whom 
the  Apostle  John  records  this  significant  testimony  and  touching 
tribute:  'Now  Jesus  loved  Martha,  and  her  sister  and  Lazarus.' 


JOY    OF   OUR    HEARTS.  329 

"Thus  reflecting  upon  the  lives  and  accomplishments  of  these 
noble  women,  the  saying  of  Luther  does  not  appear  overdrawn  or 
untruthful :  '  There  is  nothing  sweeter  on  earth  than  the  heart  of  a 
woman  in  which  piety  dwells.'  " 


TO   JEANETTE,    A   SISTER'S   TRIBUTE,    FEBRUARY    25,    1841, 

Thine  is  no  envied  lot  in  princely  hall, 

No  name  of  high  renown ; 
No  cringing  slaves  before  thy  presence  fall, 

Nor  courtly  heads  bow  down. 
Yet  on  thy  fair,  young  brow,  doth  shine 

A  crown  more  rich,  more  dazzling  bright, 
Than  ever  fame's  proud  hand  could  twine 

For  glorious  prince  or  valiant  knight, 
For  hearts,  love's  priceless  gems,  are  thine  ! 

Joy  of  our  hearts !     Light  of  our  happy  home ! 

Gladness  departs  with  thee  ;    . 
And  smiles  grow  sad  when  thy  gay,  laughing  tone 

Bids  not  our  sorrows  flee. 
Thy  voice,  like  some  sweet,  soothing  strain, 

From  each  fond  brow  doth  banish  care ; 
The  stricken  soul  forgets  its  pain, 

Thy  winning  words,  thy  smile  to  share, 
Bound  with  a  mighty,  magic  chain. 

Flower  of  our  household  band !     Charm  of  our  hearth  !• 

What  memories  round  thee  cling 
Of  childhood's  sunny  hours  and  careless  mirth, 

Untouched  by  sorrow's  sting. 
Of  girlhood's  glowing  dreams  of  joy, — 

The  young  heart's  deep,  unshaken  trust, 
That  time's  rude  hand  doth  soon  destroy, 
•  And  lay  its  idols  in  the  dust, 

Dimming  each  hope  with  stern  alloy. 

Nor  these  alone — a  holier  tie  doth  bind 

Our  loving  hearts  to  thee; 
The  memory  of  the  dead  is  linked  with  thine, 

The  early  called,  the  free. 
Pale  watcher !     To  thy  love  was  given 

A  power  to  cheer  the  hours  of  pain, 
To  point  the  fainting  soul  to  heaven ; 

The  meek,  pure  spirit  to  sustain, 
\Vhile  earthly  bonds  were  gently  riven. 


330  ENVIABLE   HAPPINESS. 

Blessings  be  on  thy  head,  companion  dear, 

My  cherished  one,  my  own  ! 
Thy  smile,  thy  voice  another  home  may  cheer, 

From  our  sad  fireside  flown.     . 
Bright  be  thy  hearth,  unknown  to  care, 

True  love  and  peace  thy  steps  attend ! 
Thy  joys  a  kindred  spirit  share, 

Till,  seeking  bliss  that  cannot  end, 
Ye  rise  to  heaven,  and  find  it  there ! 

MARTHA  C.  HULME. 


FROM  A  FRIEND,  MRS.   R.,  TO  HER  DAUGHTER,  REFERRING 
TO  THE  DEATH  OF  MRS.  PLATT. 

WASHINGTON,  D.  C.,  August  29,  1877. 

.  .  .  .  Words  cannot  express  how  heart-broken  I  am  at  the 
sad  news  your  letter  brought  me.  I  cannot  believe  it  yet ;  I  say 
it  over  to  myself  again  and  again.  I  go  over  all  my  years  of  friend- 
ship; how  she  came  like  a  ministering  angel  in  that  dark  hour  when 

we  first  heard  of  M 's  death ;  how,  day  after  day,  in  the  midst 

of  all  her  cares,  she  came  in  to  brighten  and  cheer  your  father, 
when  he  was  ill  so  long.  She  could  do  it  so  easily,  so  lovingly, 
in  such  a  Christ-like  spirit.  What  a  wonderful,  blessed  gift  it  was ! 
and  I  am  sure  many  will  rise  up  now,  like  myself,  and  call  her 
blessed.  "Blessed  is  he  that  cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord." 
In  His*name  she  always  came,  and  with  His  name  upon  her  lips. 

Oh,  I  almost  envy  her  the  happiness  she  now  enjoys  !  I  could 
have  wished  that  she  might  have  been  spared  to  us  longer,  and  to 
enjoy  her  children,  now  grown ;  yet  we  know  no  happiness  earth 
can  give  can  compare  with  that  she  has  entered  into  in  Paradise. 
These  words  are  often  said  when  a  friend  dies ;  but,  in  her  case, 
they  are  peculiarly  true.  Her  memory  will  always  be  blessed  to 
me,  as  her  life  was. 

FROM  MRS.  E.  V.  F. 

5  ARLINGTON  COURT,  CLEVELAND,  Aug.  31,  1877. 
MY  DEAR  FRIEND  : — 

.  .  For  her  I  know  all  is  joy;  but,  for  myself,  it  came 
upon  me  so  unexpectedly  that,  when  I  think  I  cannot  see  her  again  ; 
can  never  more  have  those  pleasant,  helpful,  cheery  talks  that  so 


GLORIOUS   TE   DEUMS.  331 

often  cheered  and  refreshed  me,  I  feel  as  if  I  c.ould  not  have  it  so. 
She  took  such  a  keen  interest  in  everything ;  entered  so  fully,  as 
no  one  else  has  ever  seemed  to,  into  all  one's  joys  and  sorrows.  I 
am  constantly  thinking  of  her.  When  about  some  household  duty 
I  find  myself  saying,  "Mrs.  Platt  has  done  with  this,"  etc.  etc. 
When  in  church  I  think  of  her  as  singing  the  songs  of  heaven, 
joining  in  the  glorious  Te  Deums  of  the  "blessed."  It  seems  to 
me  no  one  ever  entered  heaven  before  with  such  a  joyous,  happy, 

rapturous  spirit 

Your  feelings,  my  dear  friend,  must  be  so  mingled ;  in  your 
great  love  for  her  you  joy  with  her  joy,  while  tears  of  anguish  and 
deepest  grief  fall  for  yourself  and  children.  How  you  must  miss 
her  ever  ready  words  of  comfort,  cheer,  and  counsel;  her  dear, 
dear  presence !  .  .  .  .  Believe  me,  if  our  pens  have  been 
silent,  our  hearts  have  mourned  and  remembered.  I  have  thought 
more  than  once,  if  we  had  experienced  the  loss,  how  quickly  her 
pen  would  have  dictated  precious  words  of  sympathy  and  conso- 
lation. 

FROM  REV.  E.  H.  C. 

SPRINGFIELD,  O.,  Oct.  20,  1877. 

I  have  received  the  very  excellent  letters  you  inclosed.     What  a 
power  of  gifts  and  graces,  both  natural  and  bestowed  by  the  Spirit. 
of  her  Lord  aad  Saviour,  your  precious  wife  possessed,  to  win  the 
good  to  her,  and  to  establish  them  as  enduring  friends. 


FROM  S.  C.  DAMON. 

HONOLULU,  Sept.  29,  1877. 
MR.  PLATT  : — 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  :  By  a  mail  leaving  last  week  I  wrote  you  a 
hasty  letter  in  reply  to  the  announcement  of  your  dear  wife's  death. 
I  can  hardly  realize  that  she  has  passed  away,  and  that  our  delight- 
ful correspondence  of  more  than  thirty  years  must  now  close.  Her 
last  letter  to  me  was  written  July  6th,  only  the  month  before  her 
death.  It  was  one  of  her  most  cheery  and  characteristic  letters. 
I  was  about  to  reply,  when  I  received  the  papers  you  so  kindly 


332  SISTERS    IN    CHRIST. 

sent.  I  shall  hope  to  receive  letters  from  you,  or  your  daughters, 
informing  me  more  particularly  about  her  sickness  and  death.  At 
least  anything  published  I  am  confident  you  will  send  me. 

As  Mrs.  Damon  and  myself  have  talked  over  this  matter, — 
spoken  of  the  pleasant  correspondence  which  has  existed  for  so 
many  years,  and  of  our  visits  to  Delaware, — Mrs.  Damon  has  ad- 
vanced the  idea  that  an  interesting  memoir  of  your  wife,  or  sketch 
of  her  life,  might  be  written,  if  some  one  could  be  found  who  was 
in  sympathy  with  her,  and  appreciated  her  many  excellences. 

.     I  have  many  of  her  letters,  which,  if  needed,  I  would 

gladly  return ;  or,  if  not  needed  for  that  purpose,  I  would  return 

.  them  to  you  and  your  daughters — that  is,  if  you  wish  them.     .     .     . 

Her  letters  were  always  fresh  and  delightful,  pervaded,  as  they 

were,  with  so  genuine  a  Christian  sentiment. 

Jeanette  and  Martha  Hulme  were  to  me  sisters  in  the  purest  and 
best  meaning  of  that  term.  They  were  very  sisters  in  Christ  (Mark 
iii.,  35) ;  and,  in  all  our  correspondence,  not  a  line  or  Word  but  of 
the  purest  and  noblest  type  of  Christian  fellowship.  I  have  felt  the 
inspiration  of  their  noble  Christian  friendship.  I  esteem  it  a  great 
privilege  and  blessing  of  my  life  to  have  been  permitted  for  so 
many  years  to  have  corresponded  with  two  such  women,  and  that 
our  correspondence  was  continued  until  death  caused  its  cessation. 

We  often  speak  of  the  great  loss  sustained  by  each  member  of 
your  family.  I  hardly  ever  knew  a  mother  who  lived  so  much  in 
her  children. 

Remember  us  most  kindly  to  your  sons  and  daughters. 

FROM  MRS.  A.  THOMSON,  acknowledging  the  receipt  of  a  Portrait  of 

Mrs.  Platt. 

DEAR  MR.  PLATT  : — 

I  am  again  indebted  to  you  for  a  very  great  pleasure.  I  think 
no  face  of  earthly  friend  could  have  come  to  me  bringing  such 
sweet  pleasure  as  did  the  one  that  looked  out  on  me  that  anniver- 
sary morning.  I  thank  you,  and  appreciate  the  beautiful  gift  that 
came  to  me  then  with  such  a  flow  of  tender  memories  and  sacred 
thoughts, — memories  that  travelled  quickly  back  over  the  twenty- 
five  years  of  ouf  sweet  and  uninterrupted  communing  as  friends; 
sacred  thoughts,  that  reached  out  into  the  "  beyond,"  as  those 


PRESENT   AND    FUTURE    BLENDED.  333 

dearly  remembered  eyes  seemed  to  again  speak  to  me  from  out  the 
"more  excellent  glory"  into  whose  inheritance  she  had  already 
come- 
Just  before  sitting  down  to  make  this  acknowledgment  to  you, 
while  enjoying  another  look  at  this  picture,  it  became  quite  a  study 
to  me.  Was  it  imagination,  or  is  there  not  something  a  little  re- 
markable about  the  shading  of  that  face?  A  soft  and  beautiful 
light,  as  if  from  above,  seems  to  be  falling  upon  and  bathing  the 
upper  and  farther  side  of  it ;  a  light  so  clear  and  transparent  as 
even  to  soften  and  hallow  the  lingering  shadow  of  earth  that  still 
rests  on  this  side.  As  she  sat  for  that  last  picture  did  the  two  states, 
ever  so  near,  sweetly  mingle  and  overlap  each  other  in  it  ?  The 
bright  sheen  of  the  spiritual,  so  nearly  perfected  in  her  then,  ming- 
ling with  the  last  faint  shadows  of  earth,  then  passing  away  ;  the 
upper  windows  of  the  soul  all  opening  to  the  light  that  comes 
"from  afar;"  the  lower  ones  closing  to  the  damps  and  dark  of 
earth  ? 

[DELAWARE,]  December  3,  1877. 


FROM  J.  H.  CANFIELD. 

LAWRENCE,  KAN.,  April  17,  1878. 


DEAR  UNCLE  : — 


I  have  wondered  if  it  were  possible  to  write  a  life  of  this  dear 
aunt.  It  seems  to  me  not.  Could  you  write  the  life  of  a  ray  of 
sunlight,  or' a  summer's  shower,  or  a  fragrance  celestial?  Would 
it  be  possible  to  detail  the  hearts  gladdened  by  the  one,  the  droop- 
ing hopes  and  withered  lives  refreshed  and  revived  by  the  other, 
or  the  fainting  souls  wafted  heavenward  by  the  third  ?  Will  utter 
unselfishness,  modest  worth,  and  thoughts  for  the  welfare  and  hap- 
piness of  others  only,  leave  behind  them  a  record  which  can  be 
expressed  in  type?  Can  the  printed  page  make  us  feel  the  kindly 
grasp  of  the  hand  ;  or  see  again  the  loving,  soulful  eyes  ;  or  bring 
to  our  hours  of  sorrow  the  sympathetic  heart ;  or  to  our  gladsome 
days  the  quick,  responsive  nature  ?  Can  words  express  that  never- 
failing  interest,  that  all-embracing  anxiety  and  care;  that  devoted- 
ness  to  all  but  self;  that  loyalty  to  friendship;  that  eager  showing 


334  A    LIFE   WRITTEN    IN    LIVING   LETTERS. 

of  all  good  ;  that  silent  bearing  of  many  a  burden,  which  create 
well-springs  of  joys  in  the  arid  desert  of  this  life  ?  Can  anything  but 
the  life  itself  even  faintly  shadow  forth  that  complete  consecration 
and  childlike  faith  and  confidence  which  marks  one  who  so  pecu- 
liarly "  walks  with  God"  ? 

If  no, — then  you  cannot  write  Aunt  Jennie's  life,  though  you 
may  gladden  and  refresh  us  with  h^r  words.  But  her  life  is  written 
in  living  letters  in  the  many  hearts  which,  like  mine,  thank  God 
for  the  blessing  bestowed  on  them  in  her  intercourse  and  love,  and 
which  will  ever  keep  her  memory  green. 


FROM  A  LETTER  FROM  F.  W.  DAMON. 

39  BEHREN  STRAUSSE,  BERLIN,  GERMANY,  June  5,  1878. 

MY  DEAR  MR.  PLATT  : — 

.  .  .  .  I  shall  always  feel  that,  among  the  most  rare  and 
beautiful  things  of  my  life,  was  the  friendship  which  your  dear  wife 
showed  me  in  the  seasons  I  was  privileged  to  meet  her,  and  which 
was  continued  so  pleasantly  in  our  correspondence.  I  have  been 
enabled  to  meet  many  earnest,  cultured  Christian  men  and  women 
in  many  parts  of  the  world,  and  in  many  ranks  of  life,  but  most 
truly  can  I  say — saying  it  also  thoughtfully  and  sincerely — that 
never  have  I  met  with  any  one  who  impressed  me  more  by  the 
sweetness,  earnestness,  and  beauty  of  their  "daily  walk  and  con- 
versation" than  did  dear  Mrs.  Platt.  Never  have  I  known  a  life 
more  infused  with  the  spirit  of  Christianity,  and  animated  by  a 
sweeter  and  deeper  trust  than  hers.  And  I  am  sure  all  those  who 
have  known  her,  who  have  watched  her  in  her  daily  life,  and  list- 
ened to  her  in  her  written  words,  must  have  been  impressed  by 
the  delicate,  exquisite,  poetic  spirit,  which  found  utterance  and 
expression  in  all  the  experiences  of  life.  I  feel  peculiarly  reminded 
of  this,  thinking  of  the  last  visit  I  made  at  .your  home  in  the  fall 
of  1876.  Delicate  as  her  perceptions  of  the  beautiful  always  seemed 
to  me,  there  seemed  at  that  time  something  wonderfully  striking  in 
all  she  said, — her  words,  as  well  as  her  face,  being  luminous  with 
a  radiant  hopefulness,  as  if  gazing  on  life,  and  the  mysteries  of  life ; 
she  saw  them  all  with  a  clearer  vision  than  was  given  to  those  about 
her ;  and,  as  if  beneath  the  jar  and  noise  and  confusion  of  the  present, 


BRIGHT    HOPEFUL   WORDS.  335 

she  was  listening  quietly,  restfully,  peacefully,  to  a  melody  which 
we  could  not  hear. 

I  recall  one  conversation  in  particular,  in  which  she  seemed 
desirous  of  showing  me  how  she  had  invested  the  most  practical 
experiences  of  life  with  poetry ;  how  she  had  found  music  often- 
times in  seeming  discord,  and  seen  the  real  in  the  light  of  the  ideal. 
What  a  lesson  and  inspiration  her  daily  life  was  for  us  all  in  this 
respect !  And  then,  too,  the  sympathy,  subtle  and  refined,  which 
she  seemed  to  have  with  the  world  of  nature  about  her.  I  recall, 
oh  so  vividly,  her  'bright,  hopeful  words,  in  reference  to  the  joy 
and  inspiration  which,  she  said,  she  found  in  the  calm  waiting  of 
the  leafless  trees  in  winter  for  the  glory  of  the  spring, — seeing,  in 
their  seeming  death  and  awakening,  a  symbol  of  a  higher  truth, 
the  picture  of  a  higher  resurrection.  I  would  fain  talk  with  you 
of  her  who  was  so  dear  to  you  and  to  us  all,  but  it  is  but  poorly 
that  we  can  put  into  words  the  melody  of  such  a  life.  I  shall 
cherish  in  coming  years  the  beautiful  picture  which  I  have  of 
"Aunt  Jennie"  as  I  saw  her  last.  You  will  remember,  perhaps, 
how  beautiful  the  autumn  was  ;  how  radiant  everything  seemed  to 
be  in  the  outer  world  !  But,  in  looking  back,  all  this  seems,  as  it 
were,  a  frame  for  the  sweet,  earnest,  glorified  face  and  life  which 
seemed  even  then  lighted  with  the  coining  of  the  Heavenly  Spring- 
time. 

I  long  to  hear,  if  it  be  only  in  a  few  words,  for  you  all  have  so 
much  to  do,  of  your  welfare  and  life.  J.  I  know  is  married,  and 
I  am  so  truly  glad  to  know  that  so  beautifully  and  fittingly  the 
comfort  and  strength  of  a  new  joy  came  to  help  her  in  the  time  of 
your  general  sorrow  and  bereavement.  Please  remember  me  most 
kindly  to  her,  and  say  for  me  that  I  hope  to  write  her  very  soon, 
and  trust  that  my  congratulations  will  be  welcome,  though,  in  time, 
they  may  be  a  little  late.  And  please,  dear  Mr.  Platt,  give  my 
warm  and  hearty  love  to  all  the  "cousins."  I  hope  to  write  M. 
and  H. ;  and  if  in  any  way  I  can  be  of  service  to  you  or  yours  in 
the  coming  years,  I  trust  you  will  grant  me  the  privilege. 

It  has  given  me  the  greatest  pleasure  to  learn  that  you  were  gath- 
ering together  the  letters  of  Mrs.  Platt  into  a  memorial  volume. 
Most  truly  can  I  echo  the  sentiment  of  Dr.  Canfield,  whicji  you 
copied  in  your  letter  to  my  father.  I  feel  that  the  world  should 
know  something  of  her  rare  and  beautiful  life,  and  yet  how  diffi- 


336  OUR   BEAUTIFUL   ISLANDS. 

cult  it  is  to  portray  it  as  it  was  in  reality  !  I  think  I  have  several 
letters  received  from  Mrs.  Platt  since  I  have  been  in  Europe.  They 
are  with  my  trunk  in  Geneva,  Switzerland,  which  I  left  there  some 
time  since,  and  which,  owing  to  my  rather  migratory  life  of  travel 
during  the  past  year,  I  have  never  sent  for.  As  I  trust  I  a.m  set- 
tled for  some  time  in  Berlin,  I  hope  to  send  for  it,  and  will  for- 
ward the  letters  to  you.  Though,  perhaps,  you  have  now  more 
than  enough  material  for  the  memorial  volume,  yet  I  am  sure  you 
would  be  interested  in  seeing  them. 

As  you  may  have  learned  from  my  father,  I  have  been,  during 
the  present  year,  attached  to  the  Hawaiian  Legation.  Our  work, 
during  the  past  winter,  having  been  the  negotiating  of  a  treaty  of 
friendship,  commerce,  and  navigation  between  our  little  Hawaiian 
kingdom  and  the  German  empire.  I  have  been  enabled  to  see 
many  instructive  things  in  connection  with  German  life,  and  the 
winter  has  been  most  delightfully  spent.  I  hope  to  remain  in  Ger- 
many for  some  time  to  come.  I  am  pursuing  my  studies  at  the 
University  here,  one  of  the  first  in  this  land  of  celebrated  schools 
of  learning,  in  the  department  of  philology  and  history,  hoping 
ultimately  to  devote  myself  to  teaching  as  a  professor  in  some  col- 
lege. I  am  most  delightfully  situated,  and  find  many  interesting 
friends,  so  that  I  have  come  to  feel  very  much  at  home  in  Ger- 
many. My  health  is  excellent,  and  my  studies  and  duties  most 
agreeable. 

From  my  parents  you  have,  perhaps,  heard  how,  well  they  are, 
and  how  the  little  grandchildren  are  fast  coming  to  enlarge  our 
family  circle.  I  trust  that  it  may  yet  be  possible  for  our  family  to 
welcome  some  member  of  yours  to  our  beautiful  islands,  in  which 
you  have  always  taken  so  kindly  an  interest,  and  which  are  so 
truly  worthy  of  all  the  praise  they  have  received. 

Please,  in  addition  to  my  kind  remembrances  to  the  girls,  give 
my  most  cordial  "aloha"  to  your  sons,  whom,  I  trust,  I  may  have 
the  pleasure  of  again  meeting;  also  to  "  Cousin  N.,"  her  husband, 
and  little  ones. 

Trusting  that  I  may  have  the  pleasure  of  hearing  from  you,  and 
with  most  earnest  wishes  for  your  health  and  happiness, 
!•  remain,  as  ever,  dear  Mr.  Platt, 

Most  truly  and  sincerely  yours, 

FRANK  WILLIAMS  DAMON. 


A  FRIEND'S  LOSS.  337 

From  a  student  in  college,  who  was  a  frequent  guest  at  her  house,  and  in 
whom  Mrs.  Platt  became  warmly  interested. 

August  20,  1878. 

.  .  How  you  have  survived  the  stroke  I  cannot  tell ; 
you  whom  she  loved  with  a  -reverent,  holy,  profound,  and  un- 
wavering love,  such  as  God  has  permitted  few  men  here  on  earth 
to  know.  But  there  must  have  been  some  mitigation  of  the  pang 
in  the  fact  that  there  have  been  sympathizing  hearts  to  help  you 
bear  your  sorrow.  I  have  borne  mine  alone  in  such  solitude  and 
desolation  of  heart  as  only  One  has  understood.  All  the  dark 
events  of  her  death,  too,  fell  on  me  like  a  thunderbolt ;  one  day 
the  tidings  of  her  illness,  the  next  the  announcement  of  her  death  ! 
No  last  words,  no  farewell  message  from  those  sweet  lips  ! 

Oh,  how  I  needed  her  !  No  one  knew  what  she  was  to  me;  and 
surely  no  one  can  know  what  my  loss  is  now,  when  I  never  hear 
her  voice  any  more,  nor  see  her  dear  face.  I  had  so  many  things 

to  tell  her  concerning  my  stay  in  B ,  which  I  could  not  write, 

and  other  little  matters  that  I  had  copied  with  pen  and  ink,  think- 
ing she  would  like  to  see  them.  And  when,  in  my  disappointment, 

I  came  away  from  B ,  with  my  hopes  all  unrealized,  it  was  the 

thought  of  seeing  her  that  robbed  that  parting  of  much  of  its  pain. 
But  I  never  saw  her  again.  What  I  had  to  tell  must  remain  forever 
untold ;  and  the  little  papers  lie  in  my  trunk,  I  know  not  where. 
If  I  say  so  little  about  the  memorial  volume,  I  hope  you  will  not 
misinterpret  the  reason  of  my  reticence.  Her  letters  to  me,  to- 
gether with  her  precious  little  relics  and  mementoes,  remain  un- 
touched and  unlocked  at. 

Though  she  left  no  .message  for  me,  I  must  tell  you  the  one  she 
left  for  yourself.  It  is  only  a  few  words,  but  they  embrace  much. 
I  do  not  recall  her  exact  expression,  but  its  purport  I  remember 
well;  we  were  speaking  of  you:  "After  I  am  gone,  W.,"  said 
she,  "tell  him  how  I  loved  him  !"  And  if  ever  there  was  a  woman 
whose  whole  existence  was  merged  in  that  of  her  husband  and 
children,  surely  it  was  she.  I  cannot  describe  the  quiet,  gentle 
pride,  the  tender  reverence,  the  deep,  unchangeable  affection  with 
which  she  always  mentioned  your  name.  I  thank  God  that  I  ever 
saw  such  a  wife.  Though  any  language  must  fail  to  embody  our 
conception  of  her  character,  I  wish  you  would  take  down  from 

22 


338  A    GRATIFYING    TRIBUTE. 

the  shelf  the  volume  of  Wordsworth  I  once  gave  her  (the  poet  she 
loved  so  much),  and  turn  to  the  stanzas  in  which  Wordsworth  cele- 
brated his  own  wife,  beginning,  "She  was  a  phantom  of  delight." 
Some  of  the  dear  "foster-mother's"  characteristics  are  certainly 
there  recorded. 


The  Ladies'  Missionary  Society  of  St.  Peter's  Church,  Delaware, 
endqwed  a  scholarship  in  Bishop  Penick's  school  in  Africa,  and 
paid  the  gratifying  tribute  to  Mrs.  Platt's  memory  of  conferring 
her  name  upon  it,  as  explained  in  the  following  note  from  their 
Secretary :  — 

DELAWARE,  O.,  April  8,  1879. 
MR.  PLATT  : — 

Perhaps  it  would  be  a  gratification  to  you  and  your  children  to 
have  farther  information  of  the  circumstances  connected  with  the 
naming  of  the  scholarship  mentioned  to  you  last  Snnday.  We  had 
sent  the  amount  necessary  for  a  scholarship  at  Cape  Mount,  Africa, 
under  Bishop  Penick,  without  remembering  at  the  time  that  it  was 
customary  to  name  them. 

At  our  last  missionary  meeting,  when  the  matter  was  brought  up, 
the  thought  of  your  wife  was  instantly  present  in  every  heart,  and, 
on  motion,  the  name  of  "Mrs.  Jeanette  H.  Platt"  was  unanimously 
chosen. 

A  few  feeling  words  were  added  by  Mrs.  B.  (who  was  presiding) 
in  memory  of  Mrs.  Platt's  active  part  in  the  formation  of  our  So- 
ciety, her  unfailing  interest  in  all  its  doings,  and  of  her  having  been 
the  only  one,  thus  far,  called  from  our  midst,  where  we  still  sadly 
miss  her  cheery,  bright  presence,  and  lovely  Christian  spirit. 

Sincerely, 

MRS.  C.  H.  MCELROY. 

FROM  MRS.  DR.  McCABE. 

AT  HOME,  May  [25],  Sabbath  evening,  1879. 
MR.  PLATT:  — 

MY  DEAR  FRIEND  :  I  really  hoped  I  had  kept  Mrs.  Platt's  little 
notes,  but  I  deeply  regret  that  I  find  only  these.*  Hope,  when 

*  See  letters  from  Mrs.  P.  to  Mrs.  McC.,  in  preceding  chapters. 


COMING    LIGHT.  339 

I  have  leisure,  I  may  find  others.  She  usually  wrote  when  any- 
thing of  interest  occurred  in  which  we  might  both  participate,  a 
pleasant,  little  neighborly  act,  which  I  always  very  greatly  appre- 
ciated. It  has  not,  for  some  years,  been  my  habit  to  preserve  let- 
ters, even  unusual  ones, — my  time  has  been  so  short,  and  my  duties 
so  numerous.  All  such,  I  have  persuaded  myself,  entered  into  the 
building  of  my  soul  as  a  precious  stone  at  the  time,  and  scarcely 
needed,  therefore,  to  be  retained.  Such  were  hers,  always  em- 
bodying some  useful  or  beautiful  sentiment, — a  moral  to  refresh 
a  fellow-traveller  by  the  way,  served  with  dainty  grace  and  good 
cheer. 

I  remember  quite  a  number  of  the  last  year  of  her  life;  a  little 
longer,  and  more  detailed  than  before,  regarding  herself  and 
friends;  not  without  sorrow,  but  still  cheery  with  the  surely  com- 
ing light.  It  is  one  of  my  luxuries  to  imagine,  sometimes  for  a 
moment,  listening  to  what  she  may  say  in  the  interesting  future, 
when  I  shall  be  there  to  hear. 


FROM  MR.  E.  G.   H.,  TO  MR.  PLATT. 

HULMEVILLE,  PA.,  May  19,  1879. 

The  life  of  our  dear  cousin  is  too  precious  to  be  allowed  to  fade 
from  the  memory  of  those  of  our  family,  who  only  knew  her  through 
our  conversations,  and  did  not  know  her  personally.  T9  us,  who 
knew  her  personally,  her  memory  will  never  fade.  You  can  see,  by 
these  letters,  why  she  was  so  precious  to  us.  She,  by  her  conversa- 
tion, her  letters,*  and  her  devoted  Christian  life,  brought  practical 
religion  into  our  family,  and  was  continually  promoting  a  spiritual 
growth  of  grace  among  us.  I  feel  that  I  cannot  fully  express  my 
gratitude  to  God  that  she  was  permitted  to  become  one  almost  of 
our  own  household.  .It  was  she  who  first  made  me  realize  a  Saviour's 
love,  and  caused  me  to  daily  pray,  "Lord,  what  wilt  Thou  have 
me  to  do?" 

*  Refers  to  letters  of  Mrs.  Platt  returned. 


340  NOT    A    DOUBTFUL   RELIGION. 

This  beautiful  tribute  to  the  memory  of  Mrs.  Platt  and  her  sister, 
Mrs.  Canfield,  is  by  one  to  whom  they  were  familiarly  known  in 
girlhood  days,  a  devout  Methodist. 

ASBURY  PARK,  N.  J.,  Sept.  9,  1880. 
MY  DEAR  FRIEND: — 

.  .  .  .  Memory  does  for  us  many  precious  services.  It 
summons  persons  and  experiences  to  inspire  strength  to  our  faith, 
motive  to  duty,  and  purpose  in  its  pursuit.  It  was  among  the 
blessings  of  my  youth  to  know  and  appreciate  the  domestic  and 
Christian  character  of  your  excellent  wife.  Her  wit  was  the 
diamond-sparkle  of  soul  and  sunshine;  it  never  bore  a  trace  of 
sarcastic  severity,  as  is  too  often  the  case  with  those  thus  gifted. 
It  was  ever  on  the  surface  of  her  good  nature;  and,  under  the  halo 
of  its  rippling,  radiant  waves,  the  household  was  held  in  joyous 
» consciousness  of  her  presence.  To  say  she  was  its  brightness 
expresses  only  a  meagre  moiety  of  the  truth 

Her  religion  was  not  the  decision  of  an  hour,  or  the  emotion  of 
a  moment;  it  was  the  movement  of  the  soul  to  a  life-long  service. 
Among  her  young  companions  it  wore  no  doubtful  aspect.  She 
was  known  as  a  Christian  who,  in  accordance  with  her  solemn 
baptismal  vows,  renounced  "the  pomp  and  vanities  of  the  world;" 
and  did  in  verity  find  her  happiness,  not  in  worldly  amusements, 
but  in  the  service  of  Christ.  Her  younger  sister,  Martha,  who 
experienced  this  change  of  heart  and  purpose  long  before  her,  at 
the  very  early  age  of  eight  years,  was  accustomed  to  associate  her 
little  companions  in  meetings  in  an  upper  room,  where  she  read 
and  talked  to  them  of  Jesus  and  His  love,  and  knelt  and  prayed 
with  them,  was  in  deepest  sympathy  with  her  eldest  sister  at  this 
critical  period.  She  was  trained,  in  her  youthful,  Christian  expe- 
rience, by  that  man  of  God,  to  whom  so  many  thousands  are 
immediately  or  instrumentally  indebted,  Rev.  G.  T.  Bedell,  then 
Rector  of  St.  Andrew's  Church,  Philadelphia,  where  the  power  of 
his  efficient  ministry  is  felt  to  this  day 

I  recall,  with  great  pleasure,  the  visits  of  these  young  ladies  to 
my  childhood's  home,  at  Gloucester  Furnace,  New  Jersey;  their 
help  in  the  Sunday-school,  and  in  our  prayer  and  temperance 
meetings  in  the  school-house,  where  my  father's  workmen  assem- 


A   RICH    INHERITANCE.  341 

bled  for  teaching  and  worship ;  all  are  held  in  grateful  remem- 
brance. It  was  our  custom,  at  the  close  of  these  summer  inter- 
views, to  go  to  this  school-room  (sacred  to  us  because  of  our 
childhood  efforts  there  to  work  for  Jesus)  and  sing,  ere  we  separated, 

"  Blest  be  the  tie  that  binds 
Our  hearts  in  Christian  love." 

God  accepted  these  services,  honestly,  though  timidly  offered, 
and  we  had  our  reward.  These,  and  all  the  later  efforts  in  our 
Christian  work,  are  rolled  up,  the  record  is  sealed,  and,  to  these 
precious  friends  of  my  youth,  "it  is  eternal  day." 

S.  R.  B. 


REMINISCENCES. 

Memory  recalls  many  incidents  manifesting  her  interest  in  the 
spiritual  development  of  her  husband's  character,  as  well  as  the 
strength  and  support  she  was  to  him.  When  their  own  household 
was  first  set  up,  she  suggested  the  Christian  duty  of  commencing 
with  family  worship,  and  overcame  his  timidity  by  her  strong  faith. 

Not  unfrequently,  when  at  his  place  of  business,  and  oppressed 
with  cares  and  anxieties,  a  sealed  envelope  would  be  placed  in  his 
hands  by  a  messenger,  which,  on  opening,  would  prove  to  be  a 
loving:  cheery  note  from  his  wife,  with  a  selection  of  choice  Scrip- 
ture promises,  exactly  suited  to  the  occasion.  She  seemed  gifted 
with  a  spirit  of  divining  and  ministering  to  his  wants.  No  richer 
inheritance  could  descend  upon  the  daughters  of  our  country  than 
this  faculty  of  ministering  to  the  spiritual  needs  of  their  husbands 
or  brothers. 

A  beautiful  trait  in  Mrs.  Platt's  character  was  her  love  for,  and 
heartfelt  interest  in,  old  people, — those  who  had  "  gained  the 
hill-top,  and  were  facing  life's  sunset."  She  seemed  to  have  a 
special  mission  to  them,  which  it  gave  her  great  delight  to  fill, 
either  by  the  bright,  cheery  visit  and  loving  words  that  were  so 
natural  to  her,  or  by  the  kindly  written  letter.  Often  it  would  be 
the  well-filled  plate  of  Thanksgiving  or  Christmas  dinner,  carried 
by  her  own  hands  to  some  poor  neighbor,  in  ministering  to  whom 
she  took  as  much  real  pleasure  as  in  the  social  enjoyments  of  life. 


342  ORIGINAL   POEM. 

An  aged  colored  woman,  yet  living,  was  often  the  thankful  re- 
cipient of  these  favors. 

So  quietly  were  these  little  deeds  of  kindness  done  that  very  often 
her  own  family  knew  nothing  of  them  until  she  would  be  missed, 
and  the  inquiry  made,  "Where  is  mother?"  The  answer  revealed 
an  errand  of  mercy  to  some  needy  or  dependent  neighbor. 

Pages  could  be  filled  with  the  recital  of  these  missions,  illustrat- 
ing her  characteristic  unselfishness. 

"  To  bestow  attentions  upon  the  aged  of  the  neighborhood,  is  it 
not  a  special  Christian  duty  too  little  thought  of?  Without  needing 
the  attention  given  the  sick,  their  infirmities  exclude  them  from  the 
places  and  pursuits  which  once  claimed  and  interested  them.  They 
sit  alone  in  the  midst  of  a  younger  generation,  necessarily  more  or 
less  desolate  in  the  happiest  homes." 


ORIGINAL  POEM  TO  THE   MEMORY  OF  MRS.   PLATT. 
Contributed  by  one  who  knew  her  intimately. 

These  verses,  though  no  worth  they  claim 
Such  as  befits  the  poet's  art, 
I  write  with  reverent  hand  and  heart, 

And  consecrate  them  to  her  name ; 

Yet  cannot  rest  my  faith  in  song, 

But  tremble,  lest  my  words  should  prove 
But  hollow  echoes  of  our  love, 

And  thus  should  do  her  memory  wrong. 

I  wandering,  too,  amid  the  eclipse 

Where  Death  has  passed,  am  lost  to  speech; 
A  hand  seems  evermore  to  reach 

From  out  the  dark  to  seal  my  lips. 

The  world  is  changed  and  backward  borne, 
Now  she  is  gone  who  wrought  our  dream, 
And  shed  upon  our  paths  the  gleam 

And  freshness  of  perpetual  morn. 

But  is  she  gone?     Is  not  this  pain 
That  baffles  tongue  to  be  defined 
But  some  distemper  in  the  mind, 
Delusion  of  a  clouded  brain? 


A   VITAL   PRESENCE.  343 

.We  pause,  and  turn,  and  mutely  gaze, 

To  see  her  glide  before  our  view 

In  light  and  music  to  renew 
The  ministries  of  other  days. 

But  vain  the  dear-sought  evidence ! 

Immutable  is  the  decree : 

She  ne'er  shall  manifested  be 
To  these  dim  instruments  of  sense  ; 

And  rushing  with  impetuous  roll 

The  tides  of  grief  their  barriers  mock, 

And  with  one  wild,  tumultuous  shock, 
Break  up  the  fountains  of  the  soul. 

Oh,  Thou  to  whom  we  lift  our  prayer, 

Give  us  resigned  this  cup  to  drink, 

Nor  let  our  sacred  sorrow  sink 
Into  the  gloom  of  chill  despair. 

But  that  we  upward  may  be  led 

To  win  bereavement's  destined  gains — 

Believing  that  Thy  love  ordains 
The  holy  mission  of  the  dead, — 

Let  Thou  the  influence  that  survives 

Of  her  white-souled  existence  here 
Flow  on  a  vital  presence  clear, 

Around,  beneath,  and  through  our  lives ; 

That  she  may  still  with  us  abide 

In  spirit,  as  the  years  proceed, 

Commingling  in  our  thought  and  deed, 
And  walking  ever  by  our  side, 

The  radiant  source  of  self-same  powers, 

And  gentle  attributes  divine, 
That,  hallowed  as  the  gifts  of  Thine, 

Celestialized  this  earth  of  ours. 


344  THE   OLD    PARISH    CHURCH. 


APPENDIX. 


THE.  talent  for  ready  writing  in  the  Hulme  family  was  not  limited 
to  the  two  sisters  Jennette  and  Martha.  Their  brother  John  excelled 
in  the  power  of  graphic  description.  He  made  no  pretensions  to 
any  merit  in  this  direction,  but  several  of  his  articles  were  published 
in  New  York,  Philadelphia,  and  Burlington  papers,  and  were  favor- 
ably received.  He  wrote  one  entitled  "The  Old  Parish  Church," 
which  was  published  first  in  the  "  New  York  Church  Journal"  in 
1863  and  copied  by  others. 

In  a  letter  Mrs.  Platt  wrote  to  him  she  says  of  this  story,  "  I  do 
not  know  which  I  like  best,  your  picture  or  '  The  Old  Parish 
Church.'  Never  try  another  story — never — you  cannot  equal  this 
if  you  try  again  ever  so  much.  I  think  it  one  of  the  prettiest  things 
we  ever  wrote — that  is,  any  of  the  family  ever  wrote.  I  have  a 
wonderful  pride  in  it,  consider  it  a  kind  of  family,  not  personal 
affair — as  if  not  at  all  your  own  genius,  but  only  the  family  inspira- 
tion that  happened  to  light  upon  you  at  that  time  !  Please  never 
try  again.  '  The  Old  Parish  Church'*  will  do  for  reputation  made 
now.  But  I  do  not  feel  one  of  its  faults  if  it  had  a  thousand. 
Head,  heart,  and  eyes  are  completely  blinded  by  the  old  memories 
called  up  from  the  buried  past  as  I  read  it." 

THE  OLD  PARISH  CHURCH. 

In  a  pleasant  rural  city,  situated  on  the  banks  of  the  noble  Del- 
aware, and  on  a  broad  and  beautiful  street,  stands  the  Old  Parish 
Church.  It  is  one  of  the  oldest  in  the  Diocese,  and  owes  its  foun- 
dation and  nursing  care  to  the  "Venerable  Society  for  Propagating 
the  Gospel  in  Foreign  Parts."  The  corner-stone  of  this  old  church 

*  Old  St.  Mary's,  Burlington,  N.  J.,  of  which  the  Rev.  Dr.  Wharton  was  the 
"  Old  Rector." 


THE   OLD    PARISH    CHURCH.  345 

was  laid  on  the  25th  of  March,  1703,  the  feast  of  the  Annunciation, 
by  that  godly  and  zealous  missionary  of  the  Church  of  England, 
the  Rev.  John  Talbot.  The  first  sermon  in  it  was  preached  on 
Whitsunday,  1703,  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Keith,  another  devoted  mis- 
sionary from  the  same  Venerable  Society.  Mr.  Talbot  was  its 
faithful  minister  from  1702  till  1724.  He  reports  daily  Morning 
and  Evening  Prayer,  with  preaching  every  Sunday  morning,  and 
catechizing  in  the  afternoon.  Several  other  ministers  succeeded 
Mr.  Talbot,  among  whom  were  Messrs.  Heath  and  Odel,  till  1795, 
when  the  "  Old  Rector"  (who  preceded  the  late  and  last  Rector) 
was  called  by  the  vestry  to  the  rectorship.  He  was  only  required 
to  give  one  service  on  Sunday  morning,  but  generally  the  church 
was  open  for  evening  service  on  Sunday  afternoon.  On  July  4, 
1797,  an  oration  was  delivered  in  the  church  by  the  Hon.  William 

G ,  at  which  the  Jersey  Blues  attended,  commanded  by  Capt. 

Mel .     A  stage  was  erected  over  the  chancel  rails,  on  which 

the  orator  stood,  while  behind  .him  a  man  held  aloft  our  glorious 
flag,  which  he  waved  over  the  orator's  head  during  the  whole 
speech.  In  1799  there  was  a  funeral  procession  to  the  old  church, 
where  an  eulogy  was  delivered  on  the  death  of  Washington  by 

the  Hon.  William   G .      The  church  (with  governor's   pew) 

was  draped  in  mourning,  and  the  choir  performed  an  anthem  called 
the  "  Dying  Christian,"  our  igist  hymn.  In  1814  (in  the  evening) 
a  Thanksgiving  service  was  held  in  honor  of  the  declaration  of 
peace.  The  church  was  crowded  to  suffocation.  The  governor's 
pew  was  a  large,  square  pew,  in  the  centre  of  the  church,  sur- 
mounted by  a  canopy.  The  massive  silver  communion  service  was. 
a  royal  gift  of  England's  good  Queen  Anne ;  and  the  rich  crimson 
damask  hangings  for  the  pulpit,  reading-desk,  and  communion- 
table, the  gift  of  the  lady  of  Governor  Franklin,  England's  last 
colonial  governor. 

The  old  church  (as  I  first  remember  it)  stood  parallel  with  Broad 
street,  with  the  chancel  at  the  east  end,  and  only  one  door  at  the 
west  end,  opening  to  the  one  long  narrow  aisle,  on  each  side  of 
which  were  the  old-fashioned,  high-backed  pews.  There  was  a 
narrow  gallery  at  the  west  end  over  the  door,  in  the  centre  of 
which,  and  projecting  from  the  wall,  in  the  form  of  a  half  circle, 
was  the  organ  gallery,  inclosing  the  small,  but  sweet-toned  organ; 
and  on  each  side  of  the  organ  were  pews  and  seats  for  the  Sunday- 


34^  THE   OLD    PARISH    CHURCH. 

school.  The  open  belfry,  containing  the  honored  old  bell,  was 
then  on  the  west  end  of  the  church ;  and  often  have  I  stood,  on  a 
calm  Sunday  morning,  looking  up  to  it,  as  it  swung  to  and  fro, 
giving  forth  its  solemn  invitation  to  all  the  inhabitants:  "This  is 
the  day  the  Lord  hath  made,  prepare  ye  to  come  up  to  worship  in 
His  holy  temple."  For  generations  has  the  old  bell  sounded  forth, 
and  for  generations  it  was  the  only  bell.  How  applicable  to  it  is 
the  song  of  the  "  Old  Church  Bell"  :— 

"  For  full  five  hundred  years  I've  swung 

In  my  old  gray  turret  high, 
And  many  a  different  theme  I've  sung, 

As  the  time  went  stealing  by ! 
I've  pealed  the  chant  of  a  wedding  morn, 

Ere  night  I  have  sadly  tolled, 
To  say  that  the  bride  was  coming,  love-lorn, 
To  sleep  in  the  churchyard  mould ! 

Ding,  dong !  my  ceaseless  song ! 

Merry  and  sad,  but  never  long." 

In  the  old  rector's  time  there  was  no  announcement  of  the  ser- 
vices, but  the  bell  regulated  them ;  for  instance,  if  the  bell  did  not 
ring  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning  of  Sunday,  there  was  no  ser- 
vice. If  it  did  not  ring  while  the  people  were  leaving  the  church 
after  morning  service,  there  was  no  evening  service.  The  bell,  in 
those  days,  could  be  heard  not  only  over  the  town,  but  at  the  dis- 
tance of  four  miles  in  the  country.  In  the  winter  the  church  was 
warmed  by  two  old-fashioned  ten-plate  stoves  for  wood,  one  at 
•  each  end  of  the  building,  with  the  pipe  protruding  through  the 
window,  and  from  which,  early  on  Sunday  morning,  dense  vol- 
umes of  smoke  might  be  seen  issuing.  At  the  time  of  the  tolling, 
or  "the  people's  bell,"  as  it  was  called,  at  twenty  minutes  past 
ten,  the  old  sexton  might  be  seen  hurrying  to  and  from  the  stove 
to  the  pews,  with  little  square  boxes,  pierced  on  the  top  with  small 
holes,  and  which  contained  in  a  vessel  inside  hot  ashes  and  coals 
to  warm  the  feet  of  dainty  ladies.  Then  he  ascends  to  the  gallery, 
takes  hold  of  the  bell-rope,  and  fixes  his  eyes  upon  the  rectory, 
which  is  in  view  from  either  of  the  large,  old-fashioned  windows  in 
the  gallery.  At  this  time  the  lady  organist  perches  herself  upon 
the  high  musical  stool,  the  boy  is  at  the  bellows  handle,  and  all 
await  the  old  rector.  And  soon  the  venerable-looking  man  ap- 


THE    OLD    PARISH    CHURCH.  347 

peared  ;  short  in  stature,  with  a  firmly-knit  frame,  his  small,  well- 
turned  head,  thinly  covered  by  his  silvered  locks,  with  a  pleasant 
and  genial  face,  and  a  smile  which  spoke  only  love  to  all.  He  is 
first  seen  issuing  from  the  rectory,  and  approaching  the  church 
with  his  peculiar,  quick,  short  step.  Just  when  he  is  opposite  the 
old  academy  (upon  whose  site  now  stands  the  new  cathedral)  the 
Sunday-school  children  come  rushing  forth,  and  the  sexton  begins 
the  last,  or  minister's  bell.  The  old  rector  has  a  smile  for  each 
of  the  teachers,  puts  his  hand  upon  the  head,  and  blesses  all  the 
children  within  reach ;  but  on  the  boys  and  girls  go,  rushing  up 
the  one  narrow,  uncarpeted  gallery  stairs  with  great  noise,  and 
barely  time  to  be  seated  and  quiet  before  the  old  rector  arrives  at 
the  door.  Then  the  bell  ceases,  the  little  organ  pours  forth  its 
sweet  notes  in  the  opening  voluntary,  and  the  sexton  descends  to 
follow  the  rector  down  the  narrow  aisle,  who  goes  shuffling  along 
from  one  side  of  the  aisle  to  the  other,  stumbling  against  the  half- 
open  pew  doors,  bowing  to  every  one  whose  eye  he  could  catch, 
and  always  ending  with  a  low  bow  to  the  family  of  the  late  Senator 
W. ,  who  occupied  the  large,  square  pew  at  the  point  where  he 
turned  to  enter  the  chancel. 

But  what  a  singular  interruption  to  the  progress  of  the  rector 
down  the  aisle  took  place  on  one  Sunday  !  There  was  good  Mrs. 
Captain  R.  (long  since  in  Paradise),  whose  little  dog,  named 
"Count,"  was  very  fond  of  going  to  church,  and  always  would 
go,  if  not  watched  closely  and  shut  up.  On  the  day  mentioned 
the  dog  followed  his  mistress  unperceived,  went  in,  and  lay  down 
by  the  door  of  the  pew,  where  he  was  much  more  quiet  than  some 
people  in  church.  Unfortunately  for  this  quiet,  as  the  old  rector 
passed  down  the  aisle,  he  stumbled  against  the  partly  opened  pew 
door,  when  instantly  the  dog,  thinking  his  mistress's  domain  in- 
vaded, flew  out,  and  catching  the  rector  by  the  skirt  of  his  gown, 
bit  and  barked  most  furiously.  The  old  rector  was  terribly  fright- 
ened at  being  thus  assailed  by  an  infidel  dog  in  the  holy  temple, 
and  cried  out  most  lustily,  "Get  out,  get  out."  The  dog  snapped 
and  yelled,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  din  the  sexton  came  to  the  rec- 
tor's relief,  and  the  dog  was  taken  out  of  the  church,  while,  all 
unconscious  of  the  confusion  below,  the  organ  was  pouring  forth 
its  sweet  voluntary,  and  the  scene  was  entirely  too  much  for  the 
risibles  of  many  of  the  congregation,  whose  heads  were  bowed 
low  behind  their  high-backed  pews. 


348  THE   OLD    PARISH    CHURCH. 

The  old  rector  was  once  a  priest  of  apostate  Rome,  but  becoming 
enlightened,  and  the  scales  having  fallen  from  his  eyes,  he  came 
into  the  holy  Catholic  and  Apostolic  Church,  and  was  admitted  to 
the  diaconate  by  that  great  patriarch  of  the  American  Church, 
Bishop  White.  I  can  remember  how  the  old  rector  kept  Good 
Friday.  On  that  solemn  day  pulpit,  reading-desk,  and  commu- 
nion-table, stripped  of  their  rich  crimson  covering,  stood  forth 
naked  and  bare,  and  the  congregation  wore  black  clothing. 

On  Christmas  eve,  in  the  old  rector's  time,  the  bell  would  ring 
forth  at  ten  o'clock,  and  would  be  rung  at  intervals  all  night  long, 
the  parishioners  sending  to  the  vestry-room  cider,  apples,  doughnuts, 
and  mince  pies,  to  refresh  the  ringers.  On  Christmas  day  the  old 
rector  had  both  morning  and  evening  service;  and,  as  it  was  the 
only  occasion  when  the  church  was  open  at  night  throughout  the 
year,  it  was  usually  crowded.  The  old  church  was  always  dressed 
for  Christmas,  and  the  manner  of  dressing  it  was  this  :  the  sexton 
having  bored  holes  in  the  tops  of  the  pews,  about  two  feet  apart, 
would  insert  first  a  branch  of  laurel,  then  of  spruce,  and  then  of 
box,  and  the  congregation  might  be  said  to  be  sitting  in  and  sur- 
rounded by  a  miniature  forest.  Wreaths  of  ground  or  running 
pine  were  festooned  over  the  hangings  of  the  pulpit  and  reading- 
desk,  and  a  wreath  twined  around  the  chancel  rails.  Then  the 
two  beautiful  chandeliers  of  cut-glass,  with  pendent  drops,  which 
excited  my  warmest  admiration  when  lighted,  were  also  dressed 
with  wreaths  of  running  pine  ;  they  contained  a  double  row  of  wax 
candles,  which  shed  a  rich,  mellow  light  on  all  around.  There 
were  branches  with  wax  candles  on  the  pulpit  and  reading-desk, 
and  in  addition  to  these,  in  the  back  of  every  alternate  pew,  the 
sexton  stuck  a  little  tin  candlestick,  into  which  he  put  a  tallow 
candle.  These  were  greatly  in  the  way ;  and  I  remember  a  lady 
who,  in  tossing  her  head  about  during  service,  managed  to  get  her 
feathers  in  a  blaze,  which  was  quickly  extinguished,  however,  by 
a  gentleman  sitting  behind  her. 

The  last  time  the  old  rector  preached  on  Christmas  night  the 
church  was  crowded,  and.  for  the  first  time  our  exulting  46th  hymn 
was  sung.  From  a  child  music  had  great  charms  for  me,  and  I 
can  drink  in  the  sweet  sounds  of  any  instrument  with  delight, 
though  the  great  and  grand  organ  moves  me  most.  I  remember 
a\  this  time  the  beautiful,  lively  prelude,  and  when  the  choir  broke 


THE   OLD    PARISH    CHURCH.  349 

forth  in  the  chorus,  "Shout  the  glad  tidings,  exultingly  sing,"  I 
thought  I  had  never  heard  anything  so  beautiful.  Years  afterwards, 
when  I  listened  to  the  sweet  birdlike  notes  of  the  "  Swedish  Night- 
ingale," as  she  poured  forth  her  soul  in  that  sublime  passage  of 
the  "  Messiah,"  "I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth,"  I  feel  I  could 
not  have  enjoyed  it  more  than  when,  with  childlike  simplicity,  I 
listened  to  this  exulting  hymn.  By  the  time  the  choir  had  sung  the 
first  verse,  and  had  reached  the  second  time  the  joyful  chorus, 
almost  every  one  had  turned  to  gaze  up  into  the  organ-loft,  and 
so  continued  until  the  hymn  was  finished. 

Of  all  who  composed  the  choir  on  that  Christmas  night,  but  one 
remains  on  earth.  The  churchyard  contains  the  sleeping  dust  of 
all  the  others. 

I  well  remember  the  remark  of  one,  a  stranger,  who  was  present : 
"  Did  you  notice  the  countenance  of  Maria  C.,  as  she  sang?  She 
looked  as  if  she  felt  every  word.  With  what  a  joyful  expression  her 
face  was  lit  up  !"  Most  true,  she  did  feel;  and  most  exultingly  did 
she  pour  forth  her  sweet  voice  in  praise  of  her  adorable  Redeemer.' 
Like  Dorcas,  she  was  known  for  her  good  works  of  love  and  charity. 
At  the  head  of  the  Sunday-school,  Dorcas  Society,  and  as  tract 
distributor,  she  labored  with  untiring  zeal  and  energy;  but  soon 
she  was  missed  from  all  her  works  of  love,  and  her  sweet  voice 
was  no  longer  heard  in  the  choir.  A  painful  disease  had  seized 
her,  and,  after  month's  of  suffering,  she  fell  asleep  in  Jesus.  A 
plain,  white  marble  slab,  still  to  be  seen  in  the  old  churchyard,  in 
these  few  words  describes  her  whole  life  :  "  She  walked  with  God, 
and  was  not." 

And  there,  too,  was  Mrs.  Fannie  Mel. ;  her  joyous,  pleasant 
face  is  still  before  me,  lighted  up  with  evident  pleasure  as  old 
women  came  to  her  in  the  Sunday-school  to  be  taught  to  read 
the  Holy  Scriptures.  For  a  time  she  was  the  organist,  and  with 
what  a  master-hand  she  touched  the  keys  of  the  sweet  instrument ! 
The  first  time  I  heard  "  Cantate  Domino"  it  was  played  by  her, 
and  I  well  recollect  her  full,  clear  voice  in  the  piano  passage, 
"Praise  the  Lord  upon  the  harp;  sing  to  the  harp  in  a  psalm  of 
thanksgiving."  But  soon  the  aged  women  missed  her  in  the  Sun- 
day-school, the  organ  was  mute,  and  silent  was  her  voice,  for  she 
had  winged  her  way  to  Paradise,  there  to  touch  a  golden  harp  in 
united  praise  with  the  redeemed  in  the  grand  hallelujah  chorus  for- 


350  THE    OLD    PARISH    CHURCH. 

ever  and  forever  more.  On  a  beautiful  spring  morning  I  saw  her 
coffin  placed  before  the  chancel  in  the  old  parish  church.  Another 
presided  at  the  organ,  and  the  1251!}  hymn  was  sung,  "When  those 
we  love  are  snatched  away."  The  whole  hymn  was  sung  as  a  solo 
by  Miss  W.,  daughter  of  the  late  Senator  W.  ;  and  as  her  rich, 
sweet  voice  broke  forth,  now  rising,  now  falling  in  the  solemn  air 
of  good  old  "Revelation,"  there  was  not  a  dry  eye  among  all  those 
who  had  come  to  pay  the  last  tribute  of  affection  to  one  they  loved 
and  mourned. 

I  would  yet  mention  one  among  the  few  who  are  left  of  the 
members  of  the  old  parish  church, — dear  Aunt  P.  She  is  every- 
body's Aunt  P.,  and  all  who  know  her  love  her.  Not  a  child 
who  visits  her  brown-stained,  time-worn  house,  but  receives  from 
her  a  smile  and  kind  word,  and  they  are  never  sent  empty  away. 
She  never  turns  her  face  "  from  any  poor  man."  If  Aunt  P.  has 
nothing  beside,  a  cup  of  cold  water  is  given  in  His  name.  I 
could  fill  pages  with  the  stories  of  Christmas-tide  she  has  told  me 
in  that  same  dear  old  brown  house,  but  time  would  fail  me.  Aunt 
P.  prides  herself  upon  being  a  Low  Churchwoman,  and  is  terribly 
afraid  of  what  she  calls  High  Churchism  and  Puseyism,  but  I  well 
know  there  is  no  one  that  loves  the  Church  at  heart  more  truly 
than  Aunt  P.  Many  are  the  changes  and  chances  of  this  mortal 
life  through  which  she  has  passed.  In  her  younger  days  she  was 
careless  and  inattentive  to  the  things  that  make  for  her  peace,  but 
there  came  a  time  when  she  longed  for  something  better  and  more 
lasting  than  this  world  can  give.  Then,  as  she  had  never  entered 
into  the  spirit  of  the  sublime  liturgy  of  the  Church  of  her  fathers, 
she  conceived  the  idea  that  it  was  formal  and  spiritless,  and  the 
old  rector's  sermons  cold  and  dull,  and  she  must  stray  into  strange 
pastures,  to  be  fed  by  strange  shepherds ;  but  this  was  only  for  a 
short  time,  for  she  never  felt  at  home  there,  or  quite  right  about 
the  matter.  She  also  thought  she  had  dressed  too  gay,  and  there 
would  be  a  merit  in  dressing  a  little  plainer.  One  Sunday  morning 
she  left  home  with  a  heavy  heart,  undecided  whether  she  would  go 
to  church  or  stray  again  into  strange  pastures.  Just  as  she  reached 
the  corner  of  the  street  where  she  must  determine,  the  old  bell 
began  to  toll.  Every  stroke  of  the  bell  pierced  to  the  heart,  for 
it  seemed  to  say,  "  Come,  come ;  this  is  the  way  your  fathers  trod : 
come,  come."  Instantly  she  turned  and  took  her  way  up  to  the 


THE    OLD    PARISH    CHURCH.  351 

old  church.  The  old  rector  began  the  service,  and  in  the  first 
words  he  uttered  Aunt  P.  saw  there  was  no  merit  in  dress,  or  in 
any  works  of  her  own  :  "  Rend  your  heart,  and  not  your  garments, 
and  turn  unto  the  Lord  your  God  ;  for  He  is  gracious  and  merci- 
ful, slow  in  anger,  and  of  great  kindness."  Aunt  P.'s  tall  form  is 
bowed  a  little ;  she  is  beginning  to  see  as  through  a  glass  darkly, 
and  the  next  moment  she  is  upon  her  knees,  joining  in  the  "Gen- 
eral Confession"  with  heart  and  soul,  as  she  had  never  done  be- 
fore. The  old  rector  proceeds  with  the  service,  and  Aunt  P.  per- 
ceives new  beauty  in  the  Gloria  in  Excelsis :  "O  Lord,  the  only 
begotten  Son,  Jesus  Christ ;  O  Lord  God,  Lamb  of  God,  Son  of 
the  Father,  that  takest  away  the  sins  of  the  world,  have  mercy 
upon  us."  She  feels  these  most  comfortable  words  the  Church 
has  given  to  her  sinful,  penitent  children,  arid  tears  are  falling. 
Still  the  service  goes  on,  and,  when  the  inimitable  Litany  is  reached, 
Aunt  P.  is  on  her  knees  again.  "O  God,  the  Father  of,Heaven;" 
"O  God,  the  Son;"  "O  God,  the  Holy  Ghost;"  "O  holy, 
blessed,  and  glorious  Trinity,  have  mercy  upon  us,  miserable  sin- 
ners." Lower  and  lower  bows  the  head,  and  tears  are  flowing 
fast,  and  still  the  Litany  proceeds :  "Remember  not,  Lord,  our 
offences ;  neither  take  thou  vengeance  of  our  sins.  By  Thine 
agony  and  bloody  sweat;  by  Thy  cross  and  passion;  by  Thy  pre- 
cious death  and  burial,  good  Lord,  deliver  us."  And  now,  as  with 
a  live  coal  from  the  altar,  Aunt  P.'s  heart  is  melted  and  broken. 
With  streaming  eyes  she  looked  upward,  and  with  faith  beheld  the 
cross  and  Him  who  hung  thereupon,  not  only  for  her  sins,  but  for 
the  sins  of  the  whole  world,  and  now  she  found  peace  in  believing. 
Never  again  did  she  wish  to  roam  from  the  old  parish  church. 
Never  again  did  she  want  to  forsake  "the  Church  of  the  Living 
God,  the  pillar  and  ground  of  the  Truth."  How  often  have  I 
seen  her  (as  the  late  and  last  rector  pointed  his  hearers  to  the  cross, 
and  to  the  cross  alone,  for  safety  and  refuge)  looking  upwards  as 
with  the  eye  of  faith,  to  Him  who  sitteth  at  the  right  hand  of  God, 
and  seeming  to  say,  "In  my  hand  no  price  I  bring,  simply  to  Thy 
cross  I  cling."  Dear  Aunt  P.  is  fast  verging  to  the  age  of  fourscore 
years,  yet  is  still  able  to  walk  two  miles  to  worship  in  the  holy 
temple,  and  to  "render  thanks  for  the  great  benefits  received  at 
His  hands."  Long  may  she  be  spared  !  Many  will  miss  her,  and 
one  most,  when  she  is  taken  to  her  glorious  rest. 


352  THE    OLD    PARISH    CHURCH. 

The  old  parish  church  once  possessed  a  clerk,  an  excellent  man, 
and  there  may  be  some  who  will  remember  in  the  Te  Deum  his 
loud  response,  "Vouchsafe,  O  Lord,  to  keep  us  this  day  without 
sin."  He  was  a  singer  also,  and  sat  in  the  choir.  One  morning, 
while  the  Litany  was  being  said,  and  just  where  it  changes  from 
deprecation  to  supplication,  he  happened  to  cast  his  eye  upon  his 
note-book — "We  sinners  do  beseech  Thee  to  hear  us,  O  Lord 
God  ;  and  that  it  may  please  Thee  to  rule  and  govern  Thy  holy 
Church  universal  in  the  right  way."  The  congregation  were  quite 
startled  and  electrified  by  the  old  man's  loud  and  sonorous  "Good 
Lord, .deliver  us."  The  old  rector  was  becoming  more  and  more 
aged,  at  the  time  of  which  I  speak,  and,  his  memory  failing,  it  was 
thought  best  to  let  the  clerk  give  out  the  psalms  and  hymns. 
Before  this  change  was  made,  many  little  lively  conversations  took 
place  across  the  church  between  the  rector  and  the  clerk.  The 
rector  would  announce  the  psalm  he  had  intended,  but  when  he 
came  to  order  the  hymn,  he  would  again  give  out  the  same  psalm 
or  the  wrong  hymn.  A  short  pause  would  occur,  and  then  the 
clerk  would  call  across  the  church,  "  It  was  the  i2pth  hymn,  sir." 
The  old  rector,  peering  through  his  spectacles  again  at  the  paper, 
called  back  to  the  clerk,  "Ah,  I  see!  you're  right,  sir — you're 
right!"  At  these  times  the  old-fashioned  high-backed  pews  an- 
swered a  good  purpose  for  all  those  whose  risibles  were  easily 
affected. 

But  on  one  Sunday  morning  the  scene  exceeded  all  that  had 
gone  before.  Every  one  knows  that  organs — in  country  towns 
especially — will  get  out  of  order.  On  this  morning  the  choir  found 
the  organ  in  a  terrible  condition,  for  one  of  the  largest  bass  pipes 
would  go,  and  bass  it  was  all  the  time,  the  instant  there  was  any 
wind  in  the  bellows.  The  choir  got  along  as  well  as  they  could, 
but  the  bellows-blower  was  a  mischievous  boy,  and  all  this  trouble 
was  fine  fun  for  him,  so  he  took  care  to  have  the  organ  full  of  wind 
after  the  Gloria  Patri  was  finished.  When  the  old  rector  stood  up 
to  announce  his  text,  the  bass  pipe  continued  to  sound  with  a  great 
noise.  He  cleared  his  throat  and  tried  to  begin ;  but  all  in  vain  ; 
still  the  organ  kept  on.  At  last,  becoming  a  little  impatient,  he 
raised  his  voice  and  called  to  the  clerk,  "Can't  that  organ  be 
stopped?"  when  the  clerk  instantly  responded,  "No,  not  till  the 
wind  is  out  of  the  bellows."  This  was  too  much  for  the  risibles 


THE    OLD    PARISH    CHURCH.  353 

even  of  the  most  devout,  and  again  the  high-backed  pews  were 
a  convenient  refuge.  Of  course,  after  a  time  the  wind  did  get  out 
of  the  bellows,  the  refractory  pipe  ceased  roaring,  and  the  rector 
went  on  with  his  sermon. 

The  Communion  in  his  time  was  administered  four  times  in  a 
year,  and  the  Ante- Communion  Service  was  only  read  at  these 
times.  On  one  Sunday,  Bishop  J ,  of  Connecticut,  was  pres- 
ent, and  sitting  in  a  pew,  when,  observing  that  the  old  rector  was 
about  to  omit  this  portion,  he  rushed  from  the  pew,  went  inside 
the  chancel,  and  began  the  service,  to  the  surprise  of  every  one. 

I  used  to  sit  and  wonder  (when  a  youth)  if  it  were  possible  for  any 
one  to  be  as  good  as  a  certain  monument  portrayed  the  wife  of  the 
Rev.  ,  of  South  Carolina.  Some  people  have  called  it  hea- 
thenish. After  enumerating  her  virtues  in  minute  detail,  the  in- 
scription ends  with  these  lines  : — 

Fair,  modest,  wise,  discreet,  true,  generous,  kind, 
Pure,  virtuous,  humble,  pious,  meek,  resigned, 
To  Earth  by  Fate,  by  Faith  to  Heaven  allied, 
She  lived  to  bless,  but  to  be  blest  she  died." 

The  old  rector  grew  more  and  more  feeble  and  forgetful,  and 
many  touching  scenes  occurred  before  he  went  hence  and  was 
seen  no  more  of  men.  On  one  occasion  he  attempted  to  admin- 
ister the  Communion,  but,  feeling  very  unwell,  forgot  himself  in 
the  middle  of  the  service.  Afte"r  saying  the  prayer,  "We  do  not 
presume  to  come  to  this  Thy  table,"  there  was  a  long  pause,  and 
finding  he  did  not  proceed  with  the  service,  one  by  one  of  that 
little  flock  arose  from  their  knees,  and  there  discovered  the  dear 
old  man  standing  beckoning  for  them  to  come  forward,  and  hold- 
ing in  'his  hand  the  paten,  with  the  yet  unconsecrated  bread,  of 
which  he  had  not  himself  partaken.  Every  one  of  the  faithful  few 
was  melted  into  tears;  but  fortunately  another  clergyman  was  pres- 
ent, who  instantly  rose,  left  his  pew  and  entered  the  chancel,  took 
the  old  man  by  the  hand,  led  him  to  a  seat,  and  then  went  on 
with  the  service.  At  another  time  he  was  reading  the  Second  Les- 
son, when,  just  as  he  had  uttered  the  touching  passage,  "Fear  not, 
little  flock  ;  it  is  your  Father's  good  pleasure  to  give  you  the  king- 
dom," he  instantly  fell  back  in  a  deathly  swoon.  The  congrega- 
tion at  once  rose  from  their  seats,  and  two  or  three  gentlemen 
rushed  into  the  chancel,  lifted  the  old  rector  up,  and  carried  him 

23 


354  THE   OLD    PARISH    CHURCH. 

into  the  little  vestry-room  back  of  the  pulpit.  Everybody  was  in 
tears,  when  the  senior  warden,  the  Hon.  William  C.,  arose  and 
said  in  a  broken  voice,  "I  would  proceed  with  the  service,  but 
my  feelings  are  so  acute  it  will  be  impossible.  The  congregation 
had  better  retire."  After  a  time  the  old  rector  revived  from  his 
fainting  fit,  and  was  led  home  by  the  wardens.  As  they  left  the 
church  some  of  the  Sunday-school  children  gathered  round  the 
door,  and,  as  they  looked  upon  the  old  minister,  broke  forth  into 
loud  crying,  "  O,  we  shall  never  see  dear  Mr.  W.  again  !  we  shall 
never  see  him  again  !"  The  old  rector  was  much  moved,  but  he 
was  too  feeble  to  lay  his  hands  upon  their  heads,  as  he  had  so 
often  done.  No  doubt  he  blessed  them  in  his  heart. 

It  was  on  a  beautiful,  calm  July  morning,  when  many  persons 
might  be  seen  standing  in  groups  around  the  old  parish  church. 
Their  conversation  is  in  low  tones  as  they  look  anxiously  and  sadly 
towards  the  rectory.  Close  by  the  side  of  the  church  (the  spot  now 
covered  by  the  vestry-room)  there  yawns  a  new-made  open  grave. 
The  sexton  is  seen  bustling  about  here  and  there,  and  from  his  hat 
there  streams  a  Icfrig  black  "weeper,"  as  it  was  then  called.  One  of 
the  sexton's  stalwart  sons  has  climbed  up  into  the  belfry,  and  there 
sits  by  the  dear  old  bell,  with  eyes  intent  upon  the  rectory.  We 
look  into  the  old  church,  and  the  beautiful  crimson  hangings  are 
displaced,  and  from  pulpit,  desk,  and  communion-table  the  deepest 
black  depends,  and  the  old  rector's  pew  is  lined  with  black.  The 
red  curtains  in  the  half-circle  round  the  organ-loft  are  gone,  and 
black  ones  take  their  place.  We  ascend  the  one  narrow  stair  and 
look  into  the  organ-loft.  The  old  choir  have  fled,  while  perched 
upon  the  music-stool  sits  a  gentleman — a  stranger — a  music-book 
before  him,  opened  at  China,  C.  M.,  that  plaintive,  solemn  strain. 

We  leave  the  church  and  move  on  towards  the  rectory.  In  the 
yard,  drawn  up  before  the  old  academy,  are  the  Sunday-school 
children;  but  now  their  voices  are  subdued  and  hushed,  and  the 
teachers  with  them  are  dressed  in  mourning.  We  look  towards 
the  rectory,  and  from  an  open  side  door  we  see  persons  continu- 
ally passing  in  and  out  with  weeping  eyes.  And  now  the  sound 
of  the  bell  falls  upon  the  ear.  Its  strokes  are  slow  and  solemn, 
for  the  dear  old  bell  is  muffled.  And  soon  the  old  rector  is  seen 
approaching.  Seen,  did  I  say  ?  Alas  !  never  more  to  be  seen  in 
this  world,  he  is  in  his  coffin,  borne  on  the  shoulders  of  his  faithful 


THE   OLD    PARISH    CHURCH.  355 

vestry,  while  some  of  the  diocesan  clergy  are  the  pall-bearers.  At 
the  head  of  the  procession  are  seen  two  remarkable  men  ;  both 
most  remarkable  men  in  their  day  and  generation.  One,  a  tall, 
attenuated  form,  with  thin,  long,  white  locks  of  hair  pushed  be- 
hind the  ear,  and  his  once  erect  form  bowed  down  with  the  weight 
of  more  than  fourscore  years.  He  comes  from  an  adjoining  dio- 
cese, and  is  the  great  patriarch  of  the  Catholic  Church  in  America. 
The  other  is  the  tall,  erect,  majestic  form  of  the  new  Bishop  of 
the  diocese.  The  old  parish  church  is  crowded  to  suffocation. 
The  Bishop  of  the  diocese  read  the  service  in  the  church,  and  the 
patriarch,  with  his  feeble  voice,  committed  the  body  of  the  rector 
to  the  ground — "Earth  to  earth,  ashes  to  ashes,  dust  to  dust." 

The  old  rector  was  sick  some  three  weeks.  The  Bishop  visited 
him  and  conversed  with  him,  but  the  old  man  dwelt  upon  just  this 
theme  :  "  I  have  no  merits  ;  I  have  no  merits  of  my  own.  God 
forbid  that  I  should  glory  save  in  the  cross  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ."  What  a  lesson  for  that  stricken  flock  !  What  a  legacy 
he  left  them,  that  meek  old  man,  whose  whole  life  was  a  sweet 
savor  of  humility  and  love  !  Even  he  had  no  merits  of  his  own 
to  plead  ! 

The  old  rector  had  been  dead  but  a  short  time  when  the  late 
and  last  rector  of  the  "Old  Parish  Church"  was  called  to  the  rec- 
torship. Soon  the  old  church  was  found  too  small;  the  vestry  con- 
sented to  its  enlargement,  and  it  was  altered  and  enlarged  in  the 
form  in  which  it  now  stands.  Years  flowed  on,  and  the  zealous, 
untiring,  energetic  rector,  whose  motto  was  "right  onward" — that 
"  great  hearted  shepherd,"  whose  love  for  the  lambs  of  the  flock 
was  shown  in  his  whole  life — had  filled  the  church  again  to  over- 
flowing. Galleries  were  erected,  but  still  more  room  was  needed  ; 
then  the  corner-stone  of  the  new  cathedral  was  laid;  after  many 
years  of  delay  it  was  finished.  On  a  bright  morning  in  the  month 
of  August  a  long  procession  of  surpliced  priests  and  deacons,  with 
the  rector  at  their  head,  were  seen  to  issue  from  the  vestry- room 
of  the  old  building  and  take  their  way  to  the  new  cathedral,  and 
then  upon  the  walls  of  the  old  parish  church  was  written  "Icha- 
bod,"  fpr  her  glory  had  departed. 

But  I  must  speak  of  one,  a  young  curate,  a  relative  of  the  rector, 
and  his  assistant.  Beloved  by  all  the  parish,  but  especially  among 
the  poor, — for  he  was  ever  among  them,  seeking  out  the  sick  and 


356  THE    OLD    PARISH    CHURCH. 

afflicted,  and  wearing  out  his  young  life  in  his  work, — I  saw  him 
kneel  at  the  chancel  to  receive  the  rector's  benediction  as  a  loving 
bridegroom,  and  in  one  short  year  he  was  lying  on  the  bier  before 
the  altar,  scarce  a  bridegroom,  scarce  a  father.  The  rector  loved 
him  much,  and  his  full  heart  was  overflowing  with  grief.  It  was 
on  a  cold  November  morning  when  the' congregation  assembled  to 
the  burial  of  the  curate.  We  of  the  choir  were  there  to  sing  o'er 
his  loved  remains  the  last  parting  hymn.  There  was  a  new  organ 
and  a  new  organist — a  tall  Dane.  The  bell  ceased  to  toll,  the 
dirge  upon  the  organ  began,  the  doors  opened,  and  the  rector 
entered,  not  reading,  but  sobbing  out  those  inspired  words,  "I 
know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth."  It  needed  but  a  sight  of  the 
coffin,  and  to  hear  the  rector's  voice,  when  there  came  a  great  out- 
burst of  grief  from  the  whole  congregation  ;  tears  were  dropping 
upon  the  organ  keys  from  the  great  man,  all  unused  to  weeping, 
and  tears  were  in  every  eye.  With  a  great  effort  the  rector  went 
through  the  service,  the  hymn  \yas  sung,  and  then  the  organ  breathed 
forth  sweet  minor  strains  while  the  body  of  the  young  curate  was 
carried  to  its  last  resting  place.  I  shall  never  forget  the  sight  of 
the  rector  at  this  time.  Here  again,  with  a  great  effort,  he  mas- 
tered the  service,  and  then  stood  at  the  head  of  the  grave  till  it 
was  filled. 

A  little  after  this  we  followed  the  remains  of  a  beloved  brother 
up  to  the  old  parish  church,  the  first  link  broken  in  the  chain  that 
had  bound  us  together  so  long  as  a  happy  family.  He  was  a  can- 
didate for  orders  in  our  Church,  and  while  preparing  for  the  min- 
istry to  win  souls  to  Christ,  the  All- wise  and  Merciful  thought  fit 
to  remove  him  to  join  in  the  heavenly  chorus  that  forevermore  goes 
up  to  Him  that  sitteth  upon  the  throne,  and  to  the  Lamb  forever. 
"  We  all  do  fade  as  the  leaf,"  saith  Holy  Writ,  and  so  like  the  leaf 
he  faded  away.  We  all  know  there  are  many  almost  imperceptible 
changes  of  the  leaf  before  on  some  bright  frosty  morning  it  slowly 
falls  to  the  earth  :  so  was  it  with  this  loved  one.  At  first  he  was 
able  to  go  up  to  the  holy  temple  once  on  Sundays,  then  only  on 
communion  Sundays  (the  first  Sunday  in  the  month),  and  soon  not 
able  to  go  even  then.  He  was  only  confined  to  his  room  for  three 
days.  The  last  time  he  was  down  I  found  him  vainly  attempting 
to  ascend  the  stairs,  when  I  took  the  poor,  emaciated  form  in  my 
arms  and  carried  him  up.  He  never  came  down  again ;  two  nights 


THE    OLD    PARISH    CHURCH.  357 

afterwards,  in  the  solemn  midnight,  the  Bridegroom  came,  and  he 
went  forth  to  meet  his  Lord.  He  had  been  sleeping  sweetly,  when 
he  awoke  and  said,  "Why  have  you  put  out  the  light?  Ah,  I 
know.  The  world  recedes;  it  disappears"  (fainter  and  fainter 
grew  that  loving  voice),  "heaven  opens."  It  stopped  forever  in 
this  world,  and,  leaning  upon  his  faithful  sister  nurse,  he  fell  asleep 
in  Jesus.  It  was  a  part  of  his  favorite  hymn,  the  igist,  he  was 
trying  to  repeat.  And  was  not  heaven  opening  to  his  view  ?  For 
"when  Thou  hadst  overcome  the  sharpness  of  death  ('O  Lamb  of 
God')  Thou  didst  open  the  kingdom  of  Heaven  to  all  believers." 
And  so  we  laid  him  in  the  dear  old  churchyard,  the  first  grave, 
the  first  of  our  family,  but  many  may  be  found  there  now. 

I  have  but  little  to  say  of  the  late  and  last  rector  of  the  old 
parish  church,'  for  his  life,  and  great  works  and  labors,  are  now 
before  the  world.  By  them,  "being  dead,  he  yet  speaketh."  A 
few  things  I  must  nfention  as  a  slight  token  of  affection  to  the 
memory  of  him  who,  for  more  than  twenty-six  years,  broke  to  me 
the  bread  of  life,  the  love  of  whom  did  grow  with  my  growth,  and 
strengthen  with  my  strength.  I  was  many  years  younger  than  I 
now  am,  when  the  late  rector  preached  a  sermon  in  the  old  church 
from  this  text :  "  Josiah  was  eight  years  old  when  he  began  to  reign, 
and  he  did  that  which  was  right  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord."  Well 
I  remember  through  all  the  sermon  how  many  times  those  loving 
eyes  (now  closed  forever)  were  fixed  on  me  ;  and  well  I  remember 
a  course  of  sermons  on  the  Lord's  prayer,  how  excellent  and  in- 
structive they  were ;  also  a  course  of  Lenten  sermons  from  the 
text :  "  Behold,  I  was  shapen  in  iniquity,  and  in  sin  hath  my  mother 
conceived  me."  Every  Sunday  morning  we  had  the  same  text, 
the  same  psalm  (44),  and  the  same  hymn  (56).  Some  of  these  ser- 
mons would  take  him,  in  his  forcible,  energetic  manner,  nearly  an 
hour  to  deliver.  Ah  !  and  many  of  them  were  written  in  the  mid- 
night hour;  yea,  far  into  Sunday  morning,  after  he  had  returned 
late  in  the  evening,  tired  and  worn  out  with  visiting,  and  having 
the  "  care  of  all  the  churches."  I  have  often  thought  these  words 
of  St.  Paul  could  be  well  applied  to  hifn  :  "In  journeyings  often, 
in  perils  of  robbers,  in  perils  by  my  own  countrymen,  in  perils 
among  false  brethren,  in  weariness  and  painfulness,  in  watchings 
often,  in  fastings  often,  besides  those  things  that  are  without,  that 
which  cometh  upon  me  daily,  the  care  of  all  the  churches." 

* 


35 S  THE    OLD    PARISH    CHURCH. 

Again,  in  view  of  those  two  great  and  flourishing  institutions,  and 
of  the  hundreds  of  young  men  and  maidens  gathered  around'him, 
how  appropriate  are  the  words  of  inspired  Isaiah  :  "  He  shall  feed 
his  flock  like  a  shepherd  ;  he  shall  gather  the  lambs  with  his  arm, 
and  carry  them  in  his  bosom."  But  he  has  gone  !  I  saw  the  old 
rector's  funeral,  and  I  saw,  also,  the  funeral  of  the  late  and  last  rector 
of  the  old  parish  church.  Hundreds  attended  at  the  old  rector's, 
and  thousands  at  that  of  the  last  rector,  and  both  are  awaiting  the 
resurrection  of  the  just. 

One  word  of  the  late  rector's  lovely  wife,  and  I  am  done. 
Who  is  there  among  us  that  does  not  remember  that  bright, 
cheerful  face,  and  that  form  clothed  with  so  much  simplicity, 
though  possessing  great  wealth  ?  •  A  pattern  of  humility  and 
godliness  to  the  flock,  "in  the  modesty  of  her  apparel,  not  with 
broidered  hair,  or  gold,  or  pearls,  or  costly  array,  but  which  be- 
cometh  women  professing  godliness  with  good  works."  How  her 
swift  and  ever  ready  feet  went  to  and  fro  through  all  the  parish 
seeking  after  the  sick  and  impotent,  and  the  suffering  seemed  for 
a  time  to  forget  their  pains,  as  with  light  step,  cheerful  face,  and 
feeling  voice,  she  visited  their  sick  rooms!  With  what  pride  she 
presided  over  her  hospitable  mansion,  whose  wide  doors  stood 
ever  open,  and  with  what  delight  she  gathered  around  her  the 
young  ladies  of  the  adjoining 'institution,  making  them  feel  per- 
fectly at  home,  and  as  if  she  were  a  mother  to  them  all !  Well  do 
I  remember  how  quietly  she  glided  in  among  us  in  our  first  great 
sorrow,  our  first  death,  offering  her  services  in  any  and  every  way; 
and  striving  in  her  lovely  manner  to  heal  those  who  were  wounded 
and  broken  in  heart.  Again  at  a  marriage  festival  she  was  with 
us,  rejoicing,  and  her  light,  merry  laugh  might  often  be  heard  as 
she  passed  from  room  to  room  with  a  cheerful  word  and  smile 
for  every  one.  But  her  cup  of  sorrow  was  not  yet  full,  "  for 
whom  the  Lord  loveth  He  chasteneth."  In  the  bloom  and  beauty 
of  youth  a  son  was  cut  down.  This  affliction  and  great  sorrow 
overwhelmed  her  for  several  years,  and  she  was  ordered  to  Europe 
by  her  physicians.  She  Went,  and  there  recovered  her  health. 
Then,  as  she  was  about  returning  to  him  who  was  as  the  "apple  of 
her  eye,"  the  afflicting  news  of  his  death  sped  across  the-Atlantic, 
crushing  her  to  the  earth,  never  more  to  rise.  She  lingered  but  a 
few  months :  "  even  the  grasshopper  became  a  burden,  and  desire 


FUNERAL   OF   REV.   DR.   DORR.  359 

did  fail."  "The  silver  cord  was  loosed,  the  golden  bowl  was 
broken,  the  dust  returned  to  earth  as  it  was,  and  the  spirit  unto 
God  who  gave  it."  Surrounded  by  most  of  her  faithful,  loving 
children,  she  sweetly  sunk  to  rest.  In  a  foreign  land  she  sleeps. 
One  line  upon  her  tombstone  will  tell  her  whole  life  :  "  These  from 
affliction  came."  And  now  this  poor,  imperfect  sketch  is  com- 
pleted. It  may  be  short,  or  it  may  be  long,  but  whenever  it  may 
please  the  All-wise  and  Merciful  to  take  me  hence,  let  me  be  buried 
in  the  dear  old  churchyard  among  the  graves  of  those  I  have  never 
ceased  to  mourn.  May  I  depart  in  the  communion  of  the  Catholic 
Church,  in  the  confidence  of  a  certain  faith,  and  in  the  comfort  of 
a  reasonable,  religious,  and  holy  hope  ;  and  may  I  lie  in  the  shadow 
of  the  cross  from  the  spire  of  the  great  cathedral,  and  that  from 
the  more  humble  one  of  "The  Old  Parish  Church." 

PARISHIONER. 


The  following  description  of  Rev.  Dr.  Dorr's  funeral  is  by  the 
same  author,  John  Hulme. 

It  was  first  published  by  request  of  Mrs.*Platt  in  the  "Standard 
of  the  Cross"  (Ohio  paper)  in  October,  1869.  Her  brother  had 
sent  her  the  manuscript,  not  supposing  it  would  be  published. 

It  is  inserted  here  at  the  request  of  one  not  a  member  of  the 
family,  who  says  of  it,  "This  is  a  better  description  of  the  kind 
than  anything  I  have  ever  before  read."  . 

THE  FUNERAL  OF  DR.  DORR. 

For  several  years  past  the  Rev.  Dr.  Dorr,  for  thirty-two  years 
rector  of  old  Christ  Church,  Philadelphia,  has  been  steadily  failing 
in  health.  He  died,  as  our  readers  know,  on  the  i8th  of  Sep- 
tember. 

"  It  is  something,"  says  a  contemporary,  "  to  have  been  rector 
of  a  church  founded  in  1695,  presented  with  a  communion  service 
by  Queen  Anne  in  1719,  and  possessed  of  vestry  mtnutes  reaching 
almost  uninterruptedly  from  1717  to  the  present  day.  Here  the 
first  General  Convention  of  the  American  Church  met  in  1785; 
here  Bishop  White  officiated  for  sixty-four  years ;  here  President 


360  REV.  DR.  DORR. 

Washington  worshipped,  as  the  colonial  governors  had  done  before 
him  ;  -here  many  of  the  most  curious  scenes  of  pre-  and  post-Revo- 
lutionary times  have  occurred  and  been  recorded  j  and  here  at 
this  hour 'are  clerical  labors  reproducing  in  their  zeal  and  self- 
sacrifice  the  famous  history  of  the  old  ministers  sent  by  the  Society 
for  the  Propagation  of  the  Gospel.  But  little  changed  within"  or 
without,  solid,  and  undecayed,  old  Christ  Church  still  stands,  a 
relic  of  the  past,  and  a  temple  of  the  present.  The  chime  of  eight 
bells  still  rings  as  it  did  in  1754;  the  pulpit  has  remained  almost 
unaltered  since  1770  ;  the  library  still  contains  Queen  Anne's  dona- 
tion of  1695,  and  the  hospital  continues  its  benefactions,  begun  in 
1772.  As  with  old  Trinity,  New  York,  business  improvements 
have  long  since  driven  wealthy  parishioners  to  the  West  End,  and 
left  the  surrounding  region  to  commerce  and  the  poor.  Yet,  as 
with  Trinity,  many  retain  their  interest  and  their  pews,  always 
striving  to  reach  for  at  least  one  Sunday  service  in  the  venerable 
church  of  ancestral  memories." 

We  are  indebted  to  a  friend  of  the  "Standard  of  the  Cross"  for 
the  loan  of  a  private  letter  containing  so  stirring  an  account  of  the 
solemnities  at  the  funeral  of  Dr.  Dorr,  that,  with  permission,  we 
give  it  to  our  readers,  though  not  designed  for  publication  : — 

"  Monday,  5  P.  M.  Funeral  of  Rev.  Dr.  Dorr.  As  I  turned 
from  Third  Street  into  Church  Alley  the  sound  of  the  bells  first  fell 
upon  my  ear.  It  was  a  sort  of  half  peal,  with  a  terrible  clash — 
clash — clash,  and  the  nearer  you  came  the  more  dreadful  was  the 
sound.  It  was  as  if  all  light,  and  life,  and  joy,  and  hope,  and 
pleasure  had  forever  fled,  and  naught  was  left  but  trouble  and  sor- 
row in  the  world.  The  church  was  already  densely  crowded,  the 
galleries  and  every  available  part,  except  the  middle  block  of  pews 
reserved  for  the  procession.  I  took  my  station  at  the  entrance  to 
the  middle  aisle,  and  looked  around. 

"  The  church  was  hung  in  deep  black,  with  heavy  folds  around 
the  tops  of  the  high  pillars;  the  chancel  window  had  heavy  folds 
around  it,  also  the  pulpit,  lectern,  and  altar.  In  the  centre  of  the 
altar,  standing  erect,  was  a  large,  white  cross  of  exquisite  flowers, 
and  at  its  base  a  beautiful  white  crown  of  the  same  flowers.  The 
beautiful  monument  to  '  Mrs.  Esther  Dorr'  had  also  a  wreath  and 
a  cross  of  the  same  beautiful  flowers,  whilst  a  splendid  wreath  of 
the  same  adorned  the  noble  monument  of  '  Captain  Dorr.'  The 


REV.   DR.   DORR.  361 

window  directly  over  the  rector's  pe\v  was  covered  with  black,  and 
the  pew  was  also  draped.  It  is  now  five  o'clock,  and  all  this  while 
the  bells  had  kept  up  their  dreadful  notes,  and  the  old  sexton  was 
hurrying  to  and  fro,  and  the  people  still  crowded  in.  Right  under 
the  tower,  at  the  west  end  of  the  church,  is  the  Bible-class  room, 
and  here  was  the  body,  surrounded  by  the  afflicted  family  and 
the  clergy  and  others.  From  this  room  two  wide  doors  open 
directly  into  the  centre  aisle,  and  the  vestries  of  St.  'Peter's,  St. 
James,  and  Christ  Church  enter,  two  by  two,  with  slow  and  solemn 
step.  They  walk  the  whole  length  of  the  aisle  to  the  chancel,  and 
then  open  right  and  left ;  these  were  followed  by  the  clergy,  to 
the  number  of  twenty-five,  in  their  ordinary  dress.  Then  came 
the  surpliced  clergy,  to  the  number  of  thirty;  the  last  six  bearing 
in  their  arms  all  that  was  mortal  of  the  late  Dr.  Dorr.  *  I  am  the 
resurrection  and  the  life'  was  heard  amidst  the  solemn  strains  of  the 
organ, — now  rising,  now  falling,  as  the  body  slowly  passed  down 
the  aisle.  Next  to  the  coffin,  with  the  eldest  daughter,  walked  the 
Hon.  Horace  Binney,  Sen.,  whose  once  erect  and  well-knit  frame, 
with  lofty  bearing,  is  now  slightly  bowed  with  the  weight  of  more 
than  fourscore  years  and  ten.  In  striking  contrast  came  next  the 
youthful,  vigorous,  manly  form  of  Mr.  Ed.  Carpenter,  lately  mar- 
ried to  the  second  daughter;  and  then  followed  the  rest  of  the 
mourners.  The  body  is  placed  before  the  altar,  the  surpliced 
clergy  enter  within  the  chancel,  the  organ  ceases  its  loud  wailing, 
glides  into  a  low  minor  strain,  and  the  voices  of  the  choir  break 
forth  in  the  solemn  chant  for  the  dead,  '  Lord,  let  me  know  my 
end,  and  the  number  of  my  days.'  It  is  too  dark  to  see  the  book, 
but  I  know  it  all  by  heart. 

"As  I  raise  my  eyes  to  the  gallery,  directly  over  the  pulpit,  they 
fall  upon  a  strange  sight.  Sitting  amidst  the  vast  throng,  and  rock- 
ing her  body  to  and  fro,  with  an  old,  white  handkerchief  to  her 
eyes,  which  she  occasionally  removes  to  look  down  upon  the  coffin, 
was  an  old,  old  woman,  the  very  last  of  Bishop  White's  old  pen- 
sioners. She  seemed  to  be  full  of  grief,  the  old  body  rocking  to 
and  fro,  and  communing  within  herself,  but  no  one  noticed  her, 
and  the  dirge  went  on  : — 

"  'Hear  my  prayer,  O  Lord,  for  I  am  a  sojourner,  as  all  my 
fathers  were.' 


362  REV.   DR.   DORR.     . 

"  'Yes,  here  I  am,  left  still  a  little  longer.  Good  old  Bishop 
White  has  been  gone  more  than  thirty  years.  I  was  younger  then 
than  what  I  am  now.' 

"On  goes  the  dirge  : — 

"  'Lord,  Thou  hast  been  our  refuge,  from  one  generation  to 
another.' 

"'Yes!  Yes!  I  believe  him  to  be  my  refuge.  I  have  tried 
to  look  to  the  cross,  poor  old  ignorant  creature  that  I  am ;  and  so 
I  try  to  say,  My  soul  doth  wait  for  the  Lord  ;  in  His  word  is  my 
trust.' 

"  Still  on  goes  the  dirge  :  — 

"  'The  days  of  our  age  are  threescore  years  and  ten  ;  and  though 
men  be  so  strong  that  they  come  to  fourscore  years' — 

"  'Yes,  and  I  have  come  to  that;  I  am  more  than  eighty  years 
old.  Little  did  I  think  I  should  outlive  that  good  man  down  there 
in  his  coffin  ;  little  did  I  think  I  should  outlive  him.' 

"  Still  on  goes  the  dirge  : — 

"  '  So*  teach  us  to  number  our  days,  that  we  may  apply  our  hearts 
unto  wisdom.' 

"  'Yes.  Yes,  I  will  try  to  apply  my  heart  unto  wisdom.  I  will 
try  and  wait  upon  the  Lord  yet  a  little  while,  a  little  longer,  and 
then  I  shall  go  where  the  dear  old  Bishop  and  Dr.  Dorr,  and  all 
of  the  old  pensioners  have  gone.' 

"Then  we  had  the  beautiful  lesson,  and  then  the  hymn,  'Rock 
of  Ages.'  This  was  performed  in  a  masterly  and  touching  manner. 
When  they  came  to  the  third  verse  there  was  a  slight  pause,  and 
then  organ  and  voices,  very  slow  and  solemn,  went  on, — 

'  While  I  draw  this  fleeting  breath, 
When  mine  eyelids  close  in  death ;' 

Then  a  triumphant  outburst  of  organ  and  voices : — 

'  When  I  rise  to  worlds  unknown, 
And  behold  Thee  on  Thy  throne ;' 

Again  subdued  and  slow  : — 

'  Rock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me, 
Let  me  hide  myself  in  Thee.' 


REV.  DR.   DORR.  363 

"During  the  singing  of  the  hymn  it  had  been  growing  quite 
dark,  the  choir  alone  being  lit  up,  but  from  the  stained  glass 
chancel  window  there  would  come,  darting  across  the  great  array 
of  surplices  (the  faces  of  the  wearers  being  hid  in  the  gloom)  an 
occasional  ray  of  light  illuminating  the  large,  white  cross  and  crown 
upon  the  black  coffin  with  startling  effect. 

"And  now  the  procession  slowly  takes  its  way  down  the  aisle 
and  into  the  yard,  the  organ  pouring  out  a  great  and  bitter  wailing, 
and  the  bells  again  set  up  their  dreadful  clanging.  Not  a  word 
could  be  heard  till  the  bells  stopped,  and  then,  'earth  to  earth, 
ashes  to  ashes,  dust  to  dust,'  and  all  was  over. 

"Again  the  bells  rang  out,  and  the  last  thing  I  heard,  as  I 
plunged  into  the  noise  and  bustle  of  the  great  city,  was  their  fear- 
ful clanging." 


m\ 


II 


ii   mi  MM 

II     !! 


II! 


II!  fill 


liiiiiii 


ii  i  Iil 

Hi  1  iiii'iii 


Ii; 


Ill  Ii 


i 


III 


II 


ilijl  I 

'  !  i  :  r :  i  :    : 


II 


iiiii 


ill 


I!  IKil 


HI 


jllil 
ill!) 


ii      i 


i  n 


ill 


Iil 


i!  jHil! 


HJHiilil 


ill  II 


I! 


!  i 


III 


l! 


II 


'     1 


HHilllli  I    I 


!! 


:!  I    I  i  i 


! 

i 


Ii!  i! 

!  |1 
I 


I  iil 


i 


iiiiiiyy 


HI 


::  i    j 
i 


iiii! 


